Lost in a Story
by Little Octopus
Summary: During WWII, Arthur Kirkland lives alone and perfers to be alone, but when a boistrous fighter pilot shows up and takes over Arthur's heart and mind, will Arthur finally leave his precious library and join Alfred and his Italian friend Feliciano on adventures through London? Or will he continue his life of loneliness?
1. Prologue 1

**Prologue 1**

Arthur was the kind of guy who was always stuck in a book. Most of his teachers from his grade school years only noticed his unruly blonde hair, striking green eyes and his hand in the air to answer any question that was asked. He didn't play with the other kids and during break, instead of risking his newest book's life, he would bring a book with blank pages of drawing paper. He would fill over ten pages in the book within the two thirty minute breaks a day. When the book was full, he would place it beside the others and let no one see. He didn't want anyone to look at his world filled with unicorns, fairies, pirates, leprechauns, ghosts, and magic. They wouldn't understand.

No one would understand that Arthur's world wasn't normal because of all the books he read, it wasn't normal because _he_ wasn't normal. When Arthur reached high school, during the annoying gym period, all of the boys would talk about girls and what they do with them. All the while, Arthur would be looking at the other boys behinds and debating with himself what he liked. Firm butt he decided Monday. Not too hairy legs, just enough to tickle his own smooth legs when he wanted to be playful, he declared Tuesday. Wednesday, he swore off chest hair, _Who would want to cuddle with black, curly hair in your nose, ears and mouth? _Thursday, they played football and he was on the shirts team so he got to admire the skins side and picked out what he liked. Strong chest, definitely. Large biceps, eh, just enough to hold onto when dancing or...other things. Abs, with just a bit of fat to pinch. And of course, nice muscles to watch move. That day in gym, he got elbowed in the eye, but it was okay since the other team did it and the whole skins team leaned over him. Friday he worked on the face. Arthur preferred blue, but not too dark since it made that one kid look like one of the demons that Arthur's fairies fight. A nose that poked up a little at the end that was perfect for kissing. Light pink lips, lighter than his own because his always made it look like he was wearing his sister's lip gloss. Straight teeth was a must. A noticeable chin and jaw line, smooth hopefully, and an always happy face.

Though, that Friday after what he decided he wanted in a man, Arthur's life ended. He was walking home, wondering about how to tell his father that he was gay. His mother and siblings knew, even his little ten ear old brother knew, but his father didn't. Arthur never told him in case it was a phase in his life and he didn't want to worry his very stereotypical father. That Friday, Arthur was seventeen. That Friday in 1939, World War 2 started. That Friday, walking home from school, a bomb was dropped.

Arthur fell to the ground as the shock trembled the pavement beneath him, bits of buildings and stone pelted his skin and clothes, tearing his uniform to rags. Luckily, Arthur curled up on his knees and covered his head. His back and hands were torn into ground beef. The noise was like nothing he had ever heard. Like a million lions roaring at once in an empty room. Tears stung his eyes, he bit his lip to keep from yelling out. After what felt like forever, dust settled around Arthur and he looked up. It seemed he was just outside of the blast zone. Everything within a hundred yards in front of Arthur was rubble. Standing on shaky legs, Arthur measured the distance in his head. His house was in the blast zone. His stay-at-home mother, his younger twin brother and sister, his ten year old brother, his older brother who was visiting from Scotland, his father who just got off of work and had a new automobile. They were home, waiting for him to return so they could have their afternoon tea and talk about their day before they made dinner. This new information made Arthur physically stumble, then adrenaline took over and he took off into the smoking mess, counting the chimney stands that were left standing. One...two...three...four...five. He remembered telling some of the girls from school where he lived. He was always friendly to the girls because most of them found him being gay cute and they would meet up and he would even let some of them see his drawings. Arthur would wave at them while walking away, happily calling out, "Just the fifth house on the right and straight up the drive till the gate!" He loved saying that. Like it was out of the many books he read. But now it was horrible to even think about. When he reached his house plot, his tears were making tracks down his filthy cheeks. He sprinted up the drive and saw the shell of his fathers new auto. He ran past that and saw the remaining rubble of his house. Some of it was still on fire. Six different piles of ash were smoldering under the sun. Three larger piles were stretched out around two similar piles and a small one.

As the firemen came and put out the fire and treated Arthur for his back and hands, they told him he was lucky, but he would scar terribly. They didn't know how terrible it was. Arthur, at the age of seventeen, lost everything. His family, his house, his world, his magic and his strength to tell anyone anything. His family was among the few people he trusted to keep everything about him safe and secure. Now without them, Arthur had to carry on their lives along with his own, alone. That Friday, Arthur fell into a secretive life. He let nobody in, except for his cat so he wouldn't go insane, he built a wall around his heart, and he hated everything that had to do with the war.


	2. Prologue 2

**Prologue 2**

Alfred loved trouble. He wasn't afraid to get into fights or break things or call the people he saw on the street names. He wasn't always a little shit though. When he was younger he would take his toy airplane and his cape and go around saving his adoptive brother's polar bear. Actually, Alfred would take his new brother's polar bear and hang it from the big cherry tree in the back yard. When he got older and figured out what blood was, he would smash the bright red cherries on the polar bear's stomach to make it look like he was in the middle of a battle. Although Alfred loved being a hero, he hated fighting. Especially with his new brother, Matthew. After Matthew got the bear out of the tree or ripped it out of Alfred's hands he would run straight to their parents and tell them that Alfred was being rude, _again_. Then Alfred would follow and shove Matthew to the ground, yelling at him for tattling. That shove would actually bring the fake brothers closer to each other.

Their mother walked in to see Matthew lying on the ground clutching his bear while Alfred stood over the meek boy. She would scream, "DAVE! Your son is being a little fucker to _my_ boy again!"

That triggered their father to stomp to them and shout back, "_My_ son was being a boy and not a little fag girl like the one you picked up from the road!"

Hearing his father call Matthew a girl, he didn't understand what a fag was when he was ten. Alfred knelt down and hugged Matthew, "I don't think Matthew is a girl! He's good at fighting and climbing trees!" he announced, helping Matthew up to his feet. "Ain't that right, Mattie?"

Matthew giggled at his new nickname. After being in the house for months, he was finally being treated nicely by Alfred, and it made his heart soar. "Right! And Alfred can run really fast and when he falls he gets right back up!"

Their parents stared at the two boys, then glared at each other. "This obviously isn't going to work with that sissy boy here." their father said coldly.

"Well I don't want your prick son with my good son." Their bickering went on for hours. Finally Alfred gave up and ushered Matthew upstairs and told him to pack as much as he can in a bag and to meet him by the cherry tree when he was done.

Alfred took a large duffle bag from the closet and filled it with food from the pantry. Cans of corn and beans, jars of jam and preserved fruit. He even went as far as taking his father's beef jerky and some tins of tuna. Making his way to the back door, he grabbed a can opener and a handful of spoons. It was easy to eat the jerky with their fingers, but to get a good mouthful of corn, they would need something to scoop with. Looking around one last time, Alfred went outside and saw his brother standing by the tree, as instructed, clutching his bear.

"Alfred, what are we doing?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"We're going to Grandma's for a while." Alfred replied shortly and looked through Matthew's backpack. Shirts, pants, socks, underwear. Matthew packed everything _he _would need, like Alfred wanted. While Alfred packed everything _they _would need. Lifting the bag of food on his shoulders, Alfred helped Matthew into his bulky backpack and said cheerily, "Ready to go? I'm sure if we leave now we'll be there right in time for supper."

"O-okay.." Matthew nodded and followed Alfred through their yard gate.

But Alfred didn't know the way to their grandma's. He only ever drove there and he slept or played with his airplane. He didn't know which way to turn when they reached the end of the road. He acted like he did and Mattie put his trust in him. Realizing that Matthew thought Alfred knew where to go, Alfred took Matthew's hand and smiled. "I'm glad were brothers, cos' that means we will always be there for each other!" Alfred put on his brightest grin so Mattie wouldn't see how scared he was.

Matthew merely smiled and agreed.

Sometime later they ended up walking from Boston, Massachusetts to Atlanta, Georgia. There, they were taken in by some crazy old lady who called them Ralph and Roland. Alfred took care of Matthew. When they turned fifteen and started looking for jobs, Alfred helped Matthew with his work and had to stay longer to finish his own, often missing dinner. Alfred spent his paychecks buying food and clothes so Matthew could go have fun on the town. Alfred always took care of Matthew. So when the old woman died when they were sixteen and Matthew moved back to Boston, Alfred had no one to take care of. It was during this time of his life that Alfred figured out he was gay.

He would go to the bar and flirt with every male in sight. He would usually end up beaten up on the road, but occasionally, he got a one night stand. The next day, he would make breakfast for the man then go to his job with a sore bottom and a hangover. Once he found out about drugs, he got into some very deep trouble. The cops knew his name when he was too drunk to remember, the bartenders started serving him watered down stuff according to the police, and he got fired from his job. When he needed his next hit he would walk the streets looking for a person he could sell his body to. Eventually the Atlanta police had enough of his bullshit and sent him north. Back to Boston. Back to where his whole life changed. Once again on the road to his old house, Alfred turned and signed up for the U.S. military, telling them proudly that he was born July fourth. He was drafted and found Matthew training at the same camp as he was. For the next three years the brothers trained, and when the Germans started attacking, they were sent right over. The military truck drove through a destroyed neighborhood and Alfred watched a blonde Englishman walk up to a demolished house and lay an armful of lilies down. Alfred was the only one to see the man's shoulders shake as he knelt down in front of the flowers. As Alfred watched, he swore that he would stop the people that took families and ruined lives. Like his own parents.

**A wonderful little note from the author: YAY! Now we can start in on the fun! So that blonde guy was Arthur. I liked the idea of Alfred seeing from afar then realizing that it's Arthur sometime later so watch for that. Those are the only two prologues so the next one will be chapter one and I will name them. I think I'm gonna do author notes at the end but I do have a welcome kinda info one next chapter. It gives out all the couples and stuff. So, Arthur's family was Ireland, Northern Ireland, Wales and Scotland. Alfred's was pretty straightforward I hope. Thanks for reading and I hope you stick around cos' its gonna get like... totally insane. Maybe. Well, good day, good night, good morrow and unicorns.**


	3. Meeting

**Author Note: This is my third time writing this 'cos this laptop is retarded! So this is gonna be short. This will be accurate if Google will allow it. I got this from a song...kinda...well a scene that I couldn't let go really. I'll post the song when it gets to that part. I hope this is not too cheesy, I have a USUK shipper that helps with that ((SPIDER KISS!)) Along with USUK, there will be GerIta, SpaMano, AusHun and FranAda. So, let us begin.**

**Chapter - 1 - Meeting**

**USUKUSUK**

Arthur Kirkland did not enjoy the people in his library. He preferred the people that existed in his books to the rowdy, filthy people checking out the books and taking them home for two weeks. Oh! The things those poor books saw! After they returned to where they belonged, Arthur would look through every page and look for damage. They usually came up clean, but once in a while a tear was spotted or a drop of something was noticed and Arthur had to send the last person to have that book a bill to pay for damages.

People just didn't know how to treat books like he did. Arthur thought that English people were bad, but when the American military came, Arthur was gobsmacked. They took the books off the dark oak shelves roughly, turned the pages by their sides instead of the corners, inducing tears and set the books down where ever they pleased! Arthur couldn't remember how many times a day he asked them to please stop, and by the time he went to help someone, they would start right back up again ! It was as if _all _Americans were raised in a barn! And by how some of them looked, Arthur was sure his assumption was not far off. But once in a while, he would spot an American with something on his list, although none had _everything _Arthur craved for in a man.

It was fair to say that Arthur did not like people. It was the gospel truth to say he hated Americans.

One afternoon, Arthur was dusting off the high shelves near the front of the library, enjoying the spring sun on his back. Arthur heard a strange screeching sound and glanced over his shoulder. He saw a blue pick up truck, from his spot on the ladder, he could easily see that they were American by the uniforms they wore. He could also see that there were eight of them. That meant eight boisterous, loud and probably obnoxiously handsome Americans in his quiet world.

Before the Americans could get out of the truck, Artur jumped from his ladder and raced to the door. By the time the Americans got inside, Arhur had his feet planted, fists on his hips and had his emerald eyes blazing with his best glare. The Americans stopped, casting a shadow over Arthur. He swallowed quietly and lifted his chin.

The leader of the pack, Arthur guessed, coughed into his fist and smiled. Arthur sized the man up. Sky blue eyes, (check) caramel locks hanging low on his forehead while a stray peice seemed to defy gravity in a cowlick, tall, and his grin revealed straight teeth (check). "May we come in, sir?" he asked and Arthur felt a shiver go down his back. This man's voice was like honey. It made Arthur's stomach do back flips. It made Arthur want to listen to the man speak in that honey glazed voice for as long as he lived.

Arthur mentally kicked himself. _'He is an American soldier. He was trained to die, don't look at him!' _"Yes," he replied to the honey-voiced American. "After you hear my rules of the library."

"Alright, lets hear it." The man smiled and relaxed his shoulders.

Nodding, he eyed everyone but the blonde haired blue-eyed man, Arthur began. "These books are old and expensive. I expect them to be treated with respect and care and I will be treated the same way," Arthur paused and noticed that the leader was standing at full attention, making the other seven do so as well. Smirking to himself, Arthur continued, "and do be quiet, this is a _library _after all. Also, if you see an orange and white cat, do not pet him or try to pick him up, he bites." he glared at some snickering men in the back. "I keep his teeth sharp." The men stopped laughing immediately. Arthur stepped back, "Other than those rules, please enjoy my library."

Nodding, the blonde told his men to listen to Arthur and they walked away murmuring among themselves. He then turned to the man to his right. (_'Weird..._' Arthur thought. _'I didn't notice that lad earlier, I'm usually so vigilant.') _"And he was talking to you when he said to be quiet, Mattie!"

The man he called 'Mattie' glared at the taller man. "_You're _the loud one, Alfred." he said softly. He turned and smiled at Arthur and made his way to the French Literature section, leaving Arthur alone with this 'Alfred' character.

Arthur gave the blonde a half-hearted smile and turned to make sure that the soldiers were obeying his rules and behaving like refined men. Some were rough housing, but not with the books. '_That's alright, as long as my books stay out of it.' _Arthur thought, folding his arms. He was silent until the American named Alfred spoke. "What's your name, sir?" he asked.

Arthur snorted at being called 'sir' again. Then he blushed at his snort and cleared his throat. "My name is Arthur, and please, none of that 'sir' nonsense. I'm about as old as you." he faced the American. Big mistake. He was wearing a shit-eating grin and had his hands shoved into the pockets of his brown leather jacket. Arthur coughed again "It's Alfred, correct?"

"I'm nineteen years young...Arthur." Alfred said Arthur's name like it was a spell. It almost made Arthur swoon. Almost. "And yes. Alfred F. Jones! That's my name! I came across that ocean to come and help save Great Britain from those German bastards!" he grinned wider. "After all...I'M THE HERO!" he shouted the last part and Arthur hid his mouth behind his hand to stop from giggling like a school girl at this American. He was different and full of life and _wanted _to help.

"Nineteen years o-"

"_Young_, Arthur. I'm never gonna get old!" Alfred interrupted.

Arthur smiled. "Very well, nineteen years young. I'm twenty years...ah...young. What do you do in the military?" he rubbed his hands up his arms, willing his goosebumps to go away. _'Goosebumps!? When did I get goosebumps!? Maybe it's his voice...or the way he's looking at me...or his..his..." _Arthur bit his tongue and tried to listen to Alfred.

"I'm a fighter pilot! The best in my division! I'll have to take you on a ride in good ol' Erica!" Alfred starting describing his plane, using crazy hand gestures. Arthur watched and completely forgot about his library and that he had to help them check out books or find something they were too lazy to look for. After about two minutes, Arthur realized his thoughts weren't on Alfred's words, but everything else.

Arthur yelped and stepped back. "I am terribly sorry, Alfred, but I have work to do." He smiled sadly so Alfred knew he didn't want to leave, even though he did. He bowed and started to walk to his desk. _'Even though this lad is good looking, he's still a loud, annoying, crazy, destructive, handsome, charming American with sapphire eyes and honey coated hair that matched his voice and his sweet attitude towards the world...'_ Arthur sighed like a love sick schoolgirl and realized he was still watching Alfred, and Alfred was watching him. During all this watching, no one saw the cat that took Arthur's legs right out from under him. Falling very un-gentlemanly like on his bottom, Arthur watched his cat and some fluffy thing chase him.

"York! Leave it alone!" he scolded from his place on the floor while at the same time the wood under his hands vibrated with Alfred's heavy footfalls and he heard him yelling at the same time, "Boston! That is not a rat!"

"Well of course York is not a rat!" Arthur leaned to the side and as the oncoming cat came into his arms, he stood and let Alfred handle the other cat. "He is a Scottish fold!" Arthur held the soft cat to his small frame and watched Alfred pick up the rather larger, fluffy cat.

"Sorry, Boston loves other cats" Alfred grinned and let the fluff ball in his arms lick his face, Alfred giggled like a ten year old. "And he hardly sees any here since he can't roam around like at home. Looks like he found a new friend!"

Arthur scoffed. "Don't hold your breath. York doesn't like to be chased, and you can tell when he likes someone." He started to pet the cat between his ears.

Alfred's face fell a bit at Arthur's harsh words, but he recovered quickly. "Well let's try again." he set down his cat and Arthur eyed it warily. The fur on the cat made it look fat, and the dark ring around its neck resembled the fur on the collar on Alfred's leather jacket, its tail was the same color. It had spots around its eyes that gave the impression of glasses. Arthur was shocked that the cat even had a cowlick, like Alfred. It was crazy that Alfred's cat looked like him when Arthur's own cat resembled himself as well. It was a bit unnerving. "This is Boston. I found him in a box in well, Boston!" Alfred laughed.

Arthur didn't reply. He was baffled once again by the similarities between them. From their cats to how they found their cats. Clearing his throat, Arthur released his cat. "His name is York." He didn't tell Alfred how he came across the animal. Arthur knew how dangerous it was to get to close to people. That was one of the reasons he stayed with books and York.

"York! Like New York!?" Alfred cheered.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Not everything is circled around America, Alfred. There is a city named York here in England. Now shush." Arthur turned his attention to the cats with worried eyes.

York circled Boston, sniffing and twitching his orange ear his way in that in time with his matching orange tail. Then Arthur's worst fear happened. York got on his two back legs and...mounted Boston. Then he started humping the larger cat like crazy. Pressing his hand against his face, Arthur turned away as Alfred let out surprised sound.

"Arthur! York is humping Boston!" Alfred exclaimed much too loudly for a library.

"I know." Arthur sighed. "It's how he shows affection. He tries to do that to my leg while I read in bed. I have to push him off." Arthur glanced at the cats and noticed that the fluffy cat, Boston, seemed content with York going at it atop him, even if his eyes looked a bit irritated. Arthur scowled. "If your cat doesn't like it, I'll take York off. But he'll be in a mood." Mumbling the last part, Arthur folded his arms.

Alfred cocked his head to the side and smiled. "I think Boston thinks that he should be on top is all." he knelt down and switched the cats' positions. Instantly, Boston looked pleased and York meowed.

Taken aback by Alfred's blunt, abrupt move, Arthur watched the cats and said, "He meowed."

"So?" Alfred grinned as he watched the love-making cats. "Boston meows all the time."

"But York doesn't." Arthur gazed in puzzlement at the cats when one of the soldiers shouted across the library.

"So, your cat's queer like you, Alfred?" the other men laughed as Alfred's face flamed and Mattie (_'Is his real name Matthew maybe?'_) rushed to his side.

Then what the man said hit Arthur like a shelf full of encyclopedias. _'Alfred is gay? Like me?' _Arthur snapped his teeth on his tongue. _'No! He's checked on so many things on my list. More than any others. He's too perfect to be like me.."_

Arthur snapped back to the real world when he heard a bellow of "SHUT UP!" come from Alfred's light pink mouth (check). Arthur then saw that Alfred was clutching Boston to his chest. Boston was whimpering and struggling in Alfred's grasp while York was pacing around Alfred's legs.

Deciding to step in, Arthur gave his voice a firm tilt and said loudly, "I am closing the library for the afternoon, please come to the counter to check out any books. If you have not found a book, please come back at three. The library closes for the night at five so do not waste your time." Arthur scooped up York into his thin arms and smiled shyly at Alfred. Up close, he and Matthew (Arthur settled on Matthew) looked identical. Although Matthew's eyes were purple and Alfred's were strikingly blue, Alfred's hair was also shorter and he had a stubborn cowlick by the looks of it. Matthew's hair was longer and he had a cowlick too, but his went into an impossible curl. Arthur looked at Alfred's eyes and saw tears swimming there and Matthew hushing him. Arthur smiled to himself, proud that he stepped in and saved the loud and sweet American.

Before he could back down, or think about what he was about to say to the two fighter pilots, Arthur said, "Stay right here you two." He smiled at them the best he could with his heart clenching in fear and rushed to help the line of soldiers.


	4. Tea Time!

**Chapter - 2 - Tea Time!**

'_Something is wrong. Something is dangerously wrong. I'm letting people into my apartment. I'm letting two _men _into my apartment. All of my drawings are on display for the fairies and ghosts, but not for people!' _Arthur worried his lip between his teeth as he led Matthew and Alfred upstairs. He glanced back at the two pilots who were getting dizzy from the spiral staircase. Arthur clutched York to his chest tightly. _'Maybe this is a good thing. They'll see how I live and never come back. Yeah! I don't need people in my life! I just wanted to help the poor lad, he seems to be sensitive when it comes to personal things. Well, except when he's talking about himself. Okay, I know what I'll do, when we enter I'll greet my ghosts extra loudly and let York chase the fairies! That should make them leave! Sure, they'll think I'm crazy and never come back to my library, but who needs two more crazy Americans? I certainly don't.' _"Okay, right in here." Arthur opened the door to the apartment above his library. He would usually stay late to repair books or a bombing would happen and he would be too scared to leave until the firemen went around checking on people. As he walked into the apartment, Arthur said loudly, "Good afternoon Miss Rosa," he nodded his head to the ghost of a woman with roses adorning her hat and dress. Arthur didn't know her real name and neither did she since she hit her head when she died.

_"Ah, Arthur! Welcome back! I see you brought guests! Did they both have most of your sweet check list?" _Miss Rosa greeted Arthur as she floated to Alfred and Matthew who looked at each other warily.

_"Who cares about that faggot's check list!? He should be gettin' 'imself a woman! Not some cock sucker!" _The spirit of a very rude drunkard called across the room.

Arthur sighed. "Yes, I'm afraid so Miss Rosa, that's why I brought them up here, and really James? I know your opinion, but you don't need to spew your disgusting spit everywhere to prove it." Arthur smiled at Alfred and Matthew. "Right this way. I'll make some Earl Grey and I made scones this morning you can snack on." He let York down with a stern order of "Don't _eat _the fairies." Then made his way to the kitchen. "Make yourselves comfortable." He called over his shoulder and started preparing the tea.

_"Honestly, James!"_ Arthur could hear Miss Rosa scold, _"Just because he's different doesn't mean you can be rude! Why don't you tell our guest upstairs to wait to come down for supper seeing as Arthur has other guests?"_

"Good idea, Miss Rosa. I wouldn't want him coming down right now." Arthur picked up his plate of scones and went back to the living room, where Matthew was sitting on Peter, the little boy who was ran over by a boat. Arthur gasped and set the plate down. "Matthew! What in the bloody hell are you doing!?" he rushed over to the chair. "Get up this _instant_!"

A shrill shriek of, _"Language, Arthur!"_ from Miss Rosa fell on three pairs of (living) deaf ears.

Matthew leapt to his feet as if the chair bit him, but it was Peter pinching his arm. "I was sitting like you said to do." He said softly, his cheeks flaming.

"Well, yes, but not on Peter!" Arthur knelt down and hushed the little boy in his torn sailor suit. "Why don't you go help James with our guest?" Peter nodded and floated through the ceiling.

Alfred cleared his throat. "Erm...Arthur? Who are you talking to?"

Arthur smirked to himself. "Well, Miss Rosa, James and Peter. Matthew was sitting on the boy. I'm sorry for yelling at you Matthew, Peter is just so shy, and he did pinch you. That will bruise." Smiling, Arthur went back into the kitchen and poured the tea into matching green cups, he brought them back to the men and found them both standing. "Is something the matter?"

"We just didn't want to sit on any more of your...friends." Alfred looked around and stepped closer to Matthew.

"Oh, are you afraid of ghosts?" Arthur set down the tray with the tea cups and perched himself next to Miss Rosa.

"N-no!" Alfred sputtered out. "We just...didn't want to be rude."

Matthew smiled and picked up a scone. "Well, thank you for sending those men away. Alfred isn't shy, but he doesn't do good with bullies."

"Hmm..." Arthur grabbed a cup and blew on the steaming tea gently. "Sounds like he'll make a great soldier. If he doesn't stand up to bullies, no wonder he's over here." he smiled, "Though, I'm no stranger to bullies as well." He glanced at Miss Rosa. "Isn't that right Miss Rosa?"

_"Oooh! Indeed! Poor Arthur here has scars on his back and stomach from those nasty kids!" _Miss Rosa said and patted Arthur's knee softly.

"_Those _are hardly noticeable now." Arthur rolled his eyes. "You mother me, Miss Rosa."

Matthew took hold of Alfred's arm. "We should be getting back now, Arthur. Thanks again for helping Alfred out." He proceeded to drag Alfred to the door.

"Wait! I don't have Boston!" Alfred pulled out of Matthew's grasp and looked at Arthur. "Do you know where he might be?"

Arthur sloped his head to the side. "Maybe getting a shag from York, or chasing fairies."

"Chasing...fairies?" Alfred asked in disbelief.

Nodding, Arthur set down his tea cup and stood. "Yes, that's one of York's favorite games. As long as he doesn't eat them the fairies enjoy the work out. Well, shall we go look for them?" he turned on his heel and walked down the hall with Alfred following slowly behind.

"Hey... Artie..." he started.

Now _that_ was most definitely _not_ on the check list. Arthur bristled and said shortly, "Arthur."

"Right...Arthur, there aren't any actual ghosts right?" Alfred looked around.

"Do you think I'm lying, Alfred?" he glanced in his bedroom and continued down the hall.

"Well...I dunno, are you?" he peeked in Arthur's bedroom and hurried to catch up with the Englishman.

"Why would I lie? This ground is thousands of years old. Miss Rosa died in one of the bombings so she's newer although she seems to know everything about me. James is from the Revolution, when he got back to London he drank too much and was ran over by a carriage in front of this place. Poor little Peter was forced under by a boat. He says they tried to get him to the hospital but they only made it to this building before he died." Arthur walked into his study where he repaired damaged books and found the cats curled up side-by-side. Boston had is paws around something. Arthur knelt down and moved the cat's fluffy white paws. "Oh! I'm sorry Lorelei! I didn't know he had you!" he cupped his hands around the fairy and stood. "I'll clean your wings in a moment, alright?"

The fairy tittered and folded her pale blue arms, a scowl messing up her pretty face.

"That's a messed up lady bug, its blue." Alfred said leaning over Arthur's shoulder.

"Twit! Don't call her a lady bug! She's a fairy! And I suggest you get your cat out before she changes him into a frog!" Arthur griped.

"Okay, man. No need to get pissy." He picked up Boston and started to stroke his ears.

York stood and watched Alfred with an intense, green gaze. Boston looked down at York with a sad, sapphire emotion dancing in his eyes.

"York, leave it. Have a good day, Alfred, I wish you luck in the war." Arthur set the fairy down on his desk and picked up York so he wouldn't follow the American.

"Right. You too, Arthur." Alfred turned on his heel and left the room, Boston poked his head over his shoulder and meowed.

York let out an annoyed sound and glared up at Arthur.

"If I can't see anyone then you can't see your new cat lover." Arthur replied to the cat's noises.

Miss Rosa entered the room. _"Why can't you see him, Arthur?" _she asked, fingering a piece of flesh that hung off her arm.

"Because he's too perfect! And he's going to die anyway!" Arthur exploded, tears pooling. "I'm never going to find the perfect man because he doesn't exist or he was brought to me just to leave and get himself killed! I never want to see him again!"

_"Okay, Arthur."_ Miss Rosa said sadly. _"I'll go get our guest for supper." _she turned and floated away with her head bowed and the roses on her hat seemed to droop.

Arthur sighed. "I'll never see him again. And that is how it's supposed to be. That was the plan in the first place." He went to the window and watched the blue pick up truck drive away. Arthur could see Alfred's rather adorable cowlick and Boston pacing the bench seat. "I'll never see him again." He repeated. And to Miss Rosa, who was still by the door, it seemed that he was saddened at the thought of never seeing Alfred again.

**Author's Note: Hahaha yay, ghosts. Well I did say it was from Arthur's point of view. Next chapter will be Alfie and it will explain why he's so sensitive now when he was all tough big man when he and Mattie were little. I hope you USUK shippers will keep with this, and some GerIta is on the way. OH! And RoChu is in this too! YAY! If you want to see Alfred's truck its a 1942 half ton pick up truck. If you buy a truck like that today its like $25,000 or something like that, and that's if it's like demolished. I asked my dad! :D next chapter hopefully up later today!** **Gah! I'm sorry to those who read it and instead of Rosa it was Rosie. I talked about it with my friend who got contact high last night ((hahahaha that's so funny...)) and she suggested Rosa as that's Arthur's fem version. Well, more on the ghosts to come! Stay tuned!**


	5. A Day in the Life of a Soldier

**Chapter - 3 - A Day in the Life of a Soldier**

As Alfred and Matthew walked into their dorm where the rest of the fighter pilots were staying, Alfred kept Boston close to his body so he wouldn't get hit with the rubber bands and rocks flying their way. Matthew stayed behind Alfred with his head bowed and fist wrapped around his brother's jacket hem.

"Just ignore them, Mattie." Alfred smiled over his shoulder at the younger boy and walked to their area that was separated from the rest of the pilots.

Matthew nodded and kept his gaze away from any of the other men. Alfred was still looking at Matthew when a large, Cuban soldier stuck his foot out and tripped the brothers. Alfred turned quickly so he wouldn't crush Boston and extended his arm in hopes of saving Matthew from striking the floor. Alfred glared at the Cuban, Alex, as Matthew landed half on Alfred's chest and half on his arm.

"Is there a problem, Alex?" Alfred asked coldly.

"Yeah, I saw a faggot." Alex sneered and kicked Matthew on his side.

Matthew flinched into Alfred's jacket. Jumping to his feet, Alfred shoved Boston into Matthews arms. "Ya wanna know what I saw? I saw a fat, border hopper join the American Military thinking he can get away from the police."

Alex grabbed Alfred by is collar and shook him roughly, making Alfred's head snap back and forth. "Yer jus' a skinny, red neck, Jones. Ya don' know wha' yer talkin' 'bout."

Alfred laughed darkly. "Obviously, neither do you. I'm not a red neck, you just wish I was so you could use that insult. I actually know that you have a stash of weed under your bed and you share it with all your straight friends. Now, how would the captain take that, fattie?"

"Shut up, queer!" Alex threw Alfred on the ground. "Yer just a faggot who doesn't know where his dick belongs!"

Getting his footing quickly, Alfred helped Matthew to his feet. "You don't either." Alfred grinned and wrapped his arms around Matthew's neck. "After all..."

Matthew gaped up at Alfred. "Don't say it..."

"Gay is the way." Alfred sing-songed and pecked Matthew's cheek.

"You little faggot!" Alex yelled and swung at Alfred's face. Luckily, Alfred was faster than the Cuban, and threw Matthew down to the ground and ducked. He then swung his legs and took out Alex, who landed hard on his large bottom.

Jumping up with a loud, "Ha!" Alfred wasn't expecting most of the men in the room to form a circle around him and Matthew. He pressed is back against the younger and whispered. "Let Boston go and stay back to back, alright?"

Matthew nodded and released the cat who bolted out the door. Alfred grinned at the pilots surrounding the brothers and said crudely, "Ya'll gonna beat up a couple of nineteen year olds, and one of them is the commander of this division because he's better than all of you, and because they're gay?" Alfred scoffed. "How manly of you all."

"Alfred, stop." Matthew mumbled and pressed himself closer to Alfred.

"As soon as they all stop being ass bags, Mattie." Alfred whispered.

"Stop talking!" One man punched Alfred in the gut.

Alfred hunched over and glared at the pilot. "You are such a sissy. You need to beat up a kid ten years younger than you just to feel like you're a man!" Alfred stood straight and shot out his arm, his fist connecting with the jaw of the man that hit him.

"Alfred!" Matthew scolded.

"Quiet, Mattie!" Alfred laughed and started throwing punches at anyone who came close to him, getting hits and being hit (mostly in his face).

After a few minutes of Alfred being beaten, Matthew shouted, "Alfred!"

Alfred turned and looked at Matthew. "What is it Ma-" Alfred stumbled forward as something heavy and cold struck the back of his head. He fell to his knees and clutched the injury, feeling something warm and sticky on his hand. "Way to go Matt." He stood up and grabbed Matthew's jacket and dragged him out of the dorm room, whistling for Boston to follow.

**USUKUSUK**

"Honestly, Alfred. You need to stop picking fights with them, they are a lot bigger than you and can beat you up." Matthew tsked as he cleaned the blood out of Alfred's hair.

"Yeah, but I'm supposed to be the hero, I can't let a bunch of jerks take me down. If I'm going down, it's gonna be in Erica 'cos a German got us on a lucky shot. Not from some fat Cuban." Alfred grumbled, holding Boston in his lap.

"You know they find our kind...not right. They think how we think is a sin and that we should be punished." Matthew sighed and turned on all the shower taps in the locker room. Since all the men hated them so much, the brothers had to wait until everyone was done with dinner to get their food, and they had to wait until after midnight to shower and prep for the morrow and bed.

Alfred took a deep breath as the locker room filled with steam. "I know, but they didn't have to trip you."

Matthew laughed and disappeared into the steam. "I'm not helpless like I was before, Al. I grew up."

"I know, but I still see you as the little brother I helped raise." Alfred stripped and stepped under a shower head, closing his eyes he started to scrub the blood off his neck.

"Whatever, Alfred." Matthew called back. "So, that librarian was pretty weird, eh?"

Alfred tilted his head back and forth in thought. "Yeah, he was cute though. Maybe he just needs friends." He wondered out loud.

Matthew laughed. "The man claimed to be talking to _ghosts_, Al. Something is wrong with his head."

"Okay, but ghosts are real, Mattie." Alfred replied, staring into the steam. "He seemed so focused on the spot he said the ghost was, and he looked really freaked out when you were sitting in that chair."

"Oh, my God. You have a _crush _on the _librarian_!" Matthew chortled.

"I have no such thing!" Alfred yelped, his face flaming.

"There is no such thing as ghosts." Matthew laughed back. "Or...maybe there is...and they are...in...this...room." Matthew's voice got really quiet then vanished all together.

Alfred felt his heart beat spike and he looked around, but all he saw was the warm steam floating around him. "N-not funny, Matthew!" he called out, stepping out from underneath the warm water and looking around, knowing all he would see was steam. "Stop it, you know I don't like scary things like ghosts...a-and demons...a-a-and...Mattie! Stop it!"

Something cold and damp grabbed Alfred's sides. "ALFRED!" the thing owning the hands yelled, making Alfred squeal and run forward. Then very un-heroic like, trip over Boston and land on his hands and elbows hard. While on he ground, he heard Matthew laughing hysterically.

"Mattie! That was not funny!" Alfred whimpered.

Still giggling, Matthew started to turn off the shower heads. "You're such a spaz, Al!"

"You're such a fag, Matt!" Alfred got up and grabbed a towel, tying it around his waist.

"You are too! _And_ you have a crush on Arthur the Librarian!" Matthew did the same as Alfred and grinned, his azure eyes dancing.

Alfred felt his face heat up as he grabbed another towel and dried Boston. "I do not. I'm never going to see him again." He felt his heart sink a little. Sure the man was weird, but everyone in London was. Especially if they were affected by the war. Maybe Arthur had lost someone. A girlfriend maybe? Alfred sighed. That was probably it. He didn't seem like him and Matthew...But he did send all the other pilots away. "If he did like me...even just a little. I couldn't tell him I like him back. I'm a pilot. I was trained to risk my life. I can't go back to his library. What if he's not like us, Mattie? What if I do like him and he likes me and I get hurt?" he asked almost sadly.

Matthew bit his lip and hugged his brother. "I'm sorry, Alfie." he whispered, using Alfred's old nickname. "I can tell you were attracted to him." He tried to smooth down Alfred's cowlick, a fruitless attempt.

Alfred sighed again and hugged Boston to his chest. "I'm never going to see him again." This time, when he talked, it was sadly.


	6. Wurst and Pasta?

**Chapter - 4 - Wurst and Pasta?**

Arthur hated waking up early. Especially on Saturday, his shopping day. So when Arthur woke up at the crack of dawn, he was irritated. He was mad that he woke up before the sun, and because of the dream he had. Of course, the dream was _not _about any pilots, and it did _not_ leave a rather painful erection in his pajama pants.

After taking care of his _problem, _Arthur decided to go shopping. He washed and made his way to his book shelf sitting across his room, closing the curtains along the way, he pushed the shelf out of the way, revealing a door. He unlocked the door and went up the steep stairs in his socked feet. He called out, "Ludwig, it's me." he walked into a small room and smiled. "Good morning."

The German looked up from the book Arthur brought him last night. "_Guten morgen, _Arthur." he set the book on the wobbly table and stood. "What brings you up here?"

"I'm going shopping, is there anything you need?" Arthur grabbed a piece of paper and motioned for Ludwig to sit.

The German complied and and seated himself in his original seat. "Well, some wurst would be nice,"

Arthur looked at Ludwig and grabbed a pencil. "What's that?"

Ludwig smiled tightly and spread his hands. "It's like a sausage. W-U-R-S-T." Ludwig spelled out, sitting back and rubbing his jaw.

"Okay," Arthur wrote down the strange food. "What if I find it and they ask why I need it?"

"Ask them why they are selling it. Though it is rare to find Jew bounty hunters in England." The run-away Jewish man replied.

"It'll be just my luck to find one." Arthur sighed and stood. "Is that it?"

"For now, I might need a new book later. Oh, and please stop making my chair move out from underneath me when someone is here. It makes much more noise and I do not understand how you do it." Ludwig picked up his book and looked at Arthur with clear blue eyes.

_'Unlike Alfred's sky blues...' _Arthur nodded. "Right, I'll stop sending James since he did that. I'll send Peter. What you'll feel is a sense of drowning, or your clothes and skin getting wet, or the smell of sea water. Its usually the last two. Only those who intend harm get the drowning effect." Arthur made his way to the stair case. "I'll be back with your wurst-"

"You say it with a _v _sound, Arthur."

"Right, _v-_urst, soon. I'm assuming you'll be cooking it since I haven't a clue about German cuisine." Starting down the stair case, he heard Ludwig mumble something about English food that Arthur chose to ignore.

Arthur hadn't meant to hide the Jew, but when he found the half-starved man hiding among his books, Arthur couldn't tell him no. After Arthur fed the man, he got his story. He and his brother are Jewish and on their grandfather's dying wish, they escaped Germany. "It was not easy," Ludwig had told Arthur, who clung to every word as the disheveled man spoke to his tea. "Gilbert was stubborn and rash, I think I understood the situation more than he did. He would wear The Star of David proudly and let the Nazis beat him up. Of course, he made sure I was well hidden so they wouldn't get to me, but I saw everything they did to him. He was burnt, cut, whipped," Ludwig closed his eyes then, his breath coming in short pants. "Then one day, he was on the verge of dying. I came out of hiding and they did the same thing to me, but worse." Arthur then laid a hand on the shaking hand of the Jew and smiled calmly, like he had seen his mother do. He told Ludwig that it didn't matter and that he would house him until the war was over. Ludwig warned Arthur about bounty hunters. Warned Arthur that he and his brother, Gilbert, were well known and wanted. Ludwig almost burst into tears when he admitted that before he made it across the English Channel, he and his brother were found, and that Gilbert was at a camp. Probably dead. Arthur shushed the man and put him to bed, not wanting Ludwig to think about it anymore and not wanting to hear anymore himself.

Arthur locked the door and pushed the shelf back in place and grabbed his shoes. "Miss Rosa, I'm leaving for a while to go shopping."

The ghost came into his room. _"Why don't you take York with you? He seems down today." _She stuck out her bottom lip and Arthur managed a smile for the sweet ghost.

"Alright," He agreed and put his shoes on. "Should I take a jacket?"

_"Yes!" _came James' input. _"I feel a storm a-brewin'!" _he yelled, sending ghostly spittle over Miss Rosa, who made a disgusted look. _"I feel it in my bones!"_

Not pointing out the fact that James couldn't physically _feel _a thing anymore, Arthur slipped into his jacket and picked up his shopping basket. He set York in the basket and grabbed his money bag. "I shouldn't be home too late." he gave a wave, locked his door and went to the market, looking at the sky. No clouds, if a bit chilly for the spring morning. Arthur shrugged. The storm must be moving in later. After all, James was never wrong.

**USUKUSUK**

Alfred looked down at the little Italian who was talking a mile a minute. _'Does this guy ever breathe?' _thought Alfred as he nodded along to his friend.

"So, today for dinner I was planning something with spiral noodles. Can we get those here? I hope so. Spiral noodles are so much fun! They go, _dooooo..._" Feliciano spun his finger in a downward spiral, then continued talking. "And those pilots of yours seem to like them. Oh! How are the pilots treating you now, Alfred? Are they still being mean to you and Matthew?"

Alfred smiled and picked up Boston, who was sniffing an older woman's shoes. "Well," he started, not wanting to ruin Feliciano's good mood. "They seem to be getting used to it. They stopped shooting spit wads at us." It wasn't a lie. The men just replaced the spit wads with small rocks.

"Wonderful! I'll make you some cannolis! If we can find the ingredients of course, and they will only be for you and your younger brother!" the Italian pinched Alfred's cheek.

Laughing, Alfred pushed Feliciano's hand off his face. "Stop that. I look older than you."

Feliciano tilted his head. "I really don't look twenty-three?"

"No! You look twelve! Maybe sixteen. When you get, like, thirty-five or something then you'll look twenty-three."

"That's strange." Feliciano shrugged. "That just means I'll be _bello _for many, many years." He flipped his bangs dramatically, sending a lock into a curl, Alfred laughed again.

"That time, you looked like a twelve-year-old _girl_!"

Feiciano pushed Alfred's shoulder. "Respect your elders!"

Alfred just continued his loud laugh and let Feliciano start talking again. Alfred met the young Italian at the base. He was the cook there and everyone loved the Italian food better than the slop they originally got. Alfred befriended the man and found out that he and his brother fled Italy with a Spaniard who was sworn to protect them. Feliciano's brother, Lovino, stayed with the Spanish man while Feliciano worked. Of course, the cook got all left overs, so Feliciano always came to their temporary home with buckets of pasta. One day, Alfred asked Feliciano what Lovino and their protector, who Feli called Antonio, did while Felicaino worked for the U.S. Army all day. Feliciano looked at his shoes and shuffled his feet. Alfred let the subject drop but was still curious. He didn't want his friend to feel uncomfortable though, so he never brought it up again.

"Hey, Alfred?"

"Yeah?" Alfred looked at his friend and smiled.

"Since you're taller than me, can you look for noodles? In the red bag if you can, but if its a blue box that's fine, but it _cannot_ be a white bag." Feliciano instructed. He stopped and examined a tomato stand.

"Okay." Alfred took a quick look around and saw no red bags or blue boxes. Or blonde hair and striking green eyes.

Alfred sighed. Matthew told him to forget Arthur. He said that Arthur was not like them, and that he was crazy for believing in ghosts. Alfred thought wrong. He felt it in his gut that Arthur was just like him and Matthew, and that he really _did _see ghosts. It didn't matter to Alfred. As long as ghosts left him alone, he could withstand it. Maybe. If Arthur was there. Holding his hand. Smiling. Kissing his cheek. Kissing his lips. Alfred sighed, this time a bit more dreamily. He looked back at the tomato stand and found that Feliciano had left.

"Damn." Alfred mumbled and looked out over the busy market place. "Guess I better go find him before some creepy guy does." He said to Boston and headed out into the crowd.

**USUKUSUK**

Arthur made his way to the meat stand and coughed into his fist. "Excuse me." He said.

A tall blonde man looked up from the back of the shack, violet eyes glinting from the semi darkness. He said something softly in a language Arthur did not understand. He opened his mouth to let the man know when a shorter male stood in front of the blonde. This new man had long, brown hair tied off in a ribbon to the side so the waves fell over his shoulders. His honey eyes gleamed and he set his elbows on the counter. Long sleeves covered his arms with red and white patterns. He rested his head in his hands and smiled. "What can I get you?" he asked, his voice accented with Chinese.

Arthur sighed in relief. This man could speak English. He put on his best fake smile and pulled the paper from his pocket. "I was wondering if you sold any w-" Arthur stopped himself. "_V_-urst. Here."

The man at the counter glanced over his shoulder. He turned back and nodded. "We have six left. How many would you like?"

"All of them, if you would." He dug his money bag out from under York's belly. "How much?"

"Twenty." The man left the counter and got the sausage in a bag. "Excuse me for asking, but why would an _English_ man want _German_ meat?" he set the bagged wurst on the counter and held his hand out for Arthur's money.

Remembering what Ludwig told him earlier, Arthur replied, "Why are you selling it?" he handed over his money.

"Hmm..." Was all the man said before disappearing back into the shack.

Arthur grabbed the meat and hurried along. That was scary. He even had a conversation about bounty hunters with Ludwig this morning. He knew this would happen! He _told _Ludwig. This was the last time he was buying wurst for the man!

**USUKUSUK**

Alfred looked around frantically, starting to panic. It had been twenty minutes since he last saw Feliciano. The man was so gullible he would drop his pants if someone told him his backside was on fire. "Feliciano!" He shouted for the tenth time. He ran his hand through his hair and stood on his tiptoes. "I can't see him, Boston." he walked over to the side to look over the swarm of people.

He heard an Italian voice shout, "Noo! That's the last good pastaaa!" and Alfred beelined toward it, knowing it was Feli. Who else would shout that? He then heard an English voice scold, "Honestly, child! Behave yourself! Where are your parents!?"

Alfred shoved through the crowd and saw Feliciano on his knees, hugging a man in a jacket around his waist and wailing. "Feliciano! I finally found you!" he picked up the light man and apologized. He was interrupted when he heard his name.

"Alfred?"

Looking up, Alfred saw emerald and gold side by side, he helped Feliciano stand. "Arthur?"

**Author's Note: Yay second meeting! Excuse my poor grammar now as I wanna go to bed. Haha I be lazy. Well, we have met Ludwig who is a Jew living in Arthur's attic. There will be more on him later. Feli, who is a cook and really fun to write, will have more on his story and of course, Spamano! Ivan and Yao who will be showing up again. No mattie in this chapter, but I do promise Franada and AusHun. I didn't do a note last time I posted cos' ff was making me mad and I just wanted it up so i wouldn't have to start again. So! Preview for next chapter! Adventures through London and France! Goodbye for now my wonderfuls!  
(This is now being Beta-ed by me, DaifukuBun, so never mind the grammar thing. Hopefully. I'll try my best. Give my Dearie good reviews!) **


	7. Adventures in London

**Chapter - 5 - Adventures in London**

Arthur had just wanted to get his food an go home. He didn't like going out and trying to talk to other people when he wanted something. It seemed wherever he bought something, the clerk wanted to talk to him. They asked him about new books and the war and how he was holding up with living alone. Arthur tried to answer politely, but the living alone question always irked him. Arthur wasn't sure how he came to live alone. He knew his family was dead, since someone showed him the paper. There was a picture of his family, the reporter must have gotten from his grandmother, and Arthur standing with the police men, covered in ash and blood. His hair matted and two clean tracks down his cheeks, his eyes looked ten times bigger in the black and white photo than they really did. He knew his family was murdered by the Germans, but he remembered none of it. He knew it was three years ago, he knew the feeling of gritty ash and concrete coating his skin. He remembered a roar in his ears and seeing fire in front of his face burning his eyes and throat. He assumed he curled up on the road from the scars on his back, his hands and his knees. He also remembered the fireman with kind eyes who brought him to London. After a year of being asked how he was handling the situation, Arthur went to a doctor since he couldn't give an answer. The doctor, Roderich Edelstein, and his wife, Elizabeta, told him that a traumatic experience can make a person forget the event. Roderich said that Arthur probably forgot losing his family because he couldn't handle the shock. Arthur had gazed at the couple, who were holding hands and leaning on each other, and asked, "How did they die?" Elizabeta explained that the Germans were doing a test run to see if their new planes were working correctly. They destroyed five miles of houses and killed thousands on that day. Arthur's breath hitched and he stood. He felt like he was being told a story. A horrible, awful story that shouldn't ever be told. But it was his story, and he had to hear it. Roderich took over and said that Arthur was just outside the blast zone. Though, the impact sent him flying back on his knees a couple hundred yards. _'That's how I got the scars on my knees.' _Arthur thought in shock. The couple continued, saying that his instinct must have taken over, making him protect his head and the front of his body. When they finished, Elizabeta sent him away with a plate of cookies and two kisses on his cheeks. She kissed his forehead as Roderich came up behind her and told Arthur to call her Eli. She smiled and waved to Arthur down the road. All the way home, Arthur thought. He remembered the feeling of being there, but he didn't remember _being_ there. No gut wrenching horror in his stomach. No sights of bodies and houses flying in the hair. Only the sound of the airplanes, loud and deafening. The airplanes have left Arthur terrified of thunder and anything in the air. Arthur hated the color red because of the flames and the blood that ran into his eyes. He still almost faints at the sight of blood. He can't read gruesome stories or listen to the radio station that plays war updates. This major event in his life that he couldn't remember being at changed his life completely.

Knowing he couldn't tell anyone he didn't remember what happened, he didn't want anymore sympathy. Arthur nodded and smiled at who ever asked him that horrible, stupid question. "How are you doing living alone?" Those sympathies were one of the reasons Arthur hated the public world, but what he hates most of all was when people couldn't control their kids.

Arthur had just picked up the last bag of noodles at the booth, wondering if wurst and stroganoff was a good combination when skinny arms wrapped around his waist with a wail of, "Noo! That's the last good pastaaa!"

First the strange encounter with the meat vendor then _this. _Arthur got ready to unleash a lecture to a parent. He looked down at the child around his middle and found that his skin was tan. Hard to come by in rainy London. He scowled and said loudly, "Honestly, child! Behave yourself! Where are your parents?!" The crowd parted and a man came out and grabbed the boy, pulling him off Arthur.

Arthur dusted himself off and ignored the man and his apologies. He bought the noodles and settled them into his basket, tilting his head when he found that York was no longer there. _'Must have sniffed out a mouse.'_ he dismissed. Arthur looked up to tell the man off and saw caramel hair and a bomber jacket. He also noticed the unmistakable cowlick. His throat suddenly felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to tell the pilot that it was not okay for him to let a young boy hug strangers and scream in the middle of a shopping center. But all that come out was, "Alfred?"

The man looked up, his arms around the crying boy and blinked. With a smile that stretched from ear to ear he replied. "Arthur?"

Alfred grinned and held Feliciano to his chest to muffle his whines. "What are you doing here, Arthur?"

Arthur coughed into his fist and rubbed his arm. "Shopping and wondering why you have that child."

Alfred laughed. "This is Feliciano, I call him Feli, and he's actually twenty-three. He cooks at our base!"

Gasping and blushing at the same time showed that Arthur was shocked and embarrassed. "Oh, I-I'm sorry. He looks so young and..." Arthur paused, not knowing what would offend Feliciano.

"Childish? Yeah, he knows." Alfred shoved the boy to the side.

Feliciano yelped and punched Alfred's arm. "_Basta,_ Alfred! You're so mean, and you can be childish too!"

Alfred laughed again and Arthur felt his stomach do flips. "I don't cry over pasta!"

"Oh, yeah!" Feliciano rounded on Arthur. "You took my pasta!"

Arthur glared. "I beg to differ. I was buying the noodles when you decided to tackle me and cry like a mere spoiled child."

Feliciano's face fell and he backed behind Alfred. Arthur let his glare drop. He hadn't meant to be rude to the perky boy- man, but no one in their right mind accused someone of stealing pasta.

"Why don't you ask if you can have some instead of pouting Feliciano?" Alfred looked over his shoulder, giving Arthur a good look at his neck.

Arthur noted that Alfred had a nice jaw and chin line so it didn't look like he had three more chins (check). Arthur glanced up at the pilots face. He always seemed so happy, and the apples of his cheeks were slightly pink and looked smooth enough to touch (check). Focusing on his face, Arthur saw that Alfred's nose curved and poke up adorably (check). Arthur tilted his head to look at his mouth while he talked to Feliciano. Alfred's lips were a very light pink (check). Arthur looked back down at Alfred's chest. His jacket covered him snugly, but it was much too difficult to see if he had any muscles underneath his clothing. _'Maybe if I invite him to dinner, he'll take off his jacket and I can see if he's actually fat under all that leather.' _Arthur thought. He smiled to himself. _'He has been checked off most of my list. Maybe this is my guy. This is my dream boy. Even though he really is a boy. It's just a year though, that's not too bad. I mean, he can drive and...and he's in the war. He's going to die. If I fall in love with Alfred, he'll die. That's how these kinds of things work for my kind. We fall in love then something awful always happens!' _Arthur sighed and rubbed his head. This was all to much.

"-ur. Hey, Arthur? Feliciano was talking to you." Alfred set a warm hand on Arthur's shoulder. "I can't blame ya though, when he talks I understand every other word." Alfred grinned and gave Arthur's shoulder a good shake, making Arthur's head bob.

"E-excuse me, Feliciano, what were you saying?" Arthur tried to shrug Alfred's hand off, but Alfred didn't seem to get the hint.

"I was saying that we can go get Mattie and we can all go out and have dinner, since you and Alfred are friends and all. And I'm sure Mattie will want to come too. Where is Mattie anyway, Alfred?" Feliciano chirped out.

"He's...somewhere. I'll be able to find him. Alright! So, whats the best place to eat around here?" Alfred asked and looked down at Arthur, who looked utterly stunned.

"Well, u-uhm." Arthur had no idea. He never went out to eat. He used to just eat with his fairies and his ghosts, but now that Ludwig lives with him, he started eating in the hidden room. He looked around and spotted a building people were going in and out of at a steady pace. Arthur prayed to the fairies that the building was a restaurant and pointed. "That building, over there." he said, then dropped his arm. "I'm sure you will like it."

"Great! We'll meet you there in an hour! Then we can go night walking!" Alfred grinned and slapped Feliciano on the back.

"N-night walking?" Arthur asked and watched Feliciano stumble.

"Yeah! We walk around at night and check out the local drunks! Its really fun, and we might see something that attracts our eye." Alfred inclined his head and peered down at Arthur, making his neck heat up.

"Sounds...interesting." He said slowly.

"You have to come! It'll be a lot of fun and we can see the cute English girls, and go to pubs and stuff!" Feliciano chirped and clapped his hands.

_'Cute girls...So Feliciano isn't like us. I wonder if he knows about Alfred. What if he doesn't and I somehow let it slip? He's scrawny, but I am too. It'll be like two twigs fighting...'_ Arthur thought, _'But they are going to pubs. That could help me relax. I can drop off the wurst and pasta and tell Ludwig not to turn on any lights. He should be fine.' _"Alright. In an hour?"

"Yup! Come on Feli, lets find Mattie. Where's Boston?" Alfred looked down at the ground.

"Most likely with York." Arthur sighed and scoped the sidewalk. "York, I have treats!" He called.

"That is not going to bring a cat to ya, Artie." Alfred laughed.

"First of all, I know my cat better than you. Second, my name is Arthur, you git. And third, there are our cats." Arthur knelt down and picked up York, sightly pleased that Alfred called him a nickname. "Hello, York. What were you and Boston doing?" Boston was close behind York and now paced Arthur's feet while he held York.

"Probably doing it again." Alfred scooped up Boston and flipped him onto his back. Rubbing his belly, Alfred looked at Arthur. "Can Boston stay at your place with York? I don't want to put Boston back in his kennel. Or around those guys." Alfred's smile fell and his hand hovered over Boston's side.

"'Those men'?" Arthur tilted his head.

Alfred moved his hand and Arthur saw a piece of fur had been shaved off, and it seemed that the razor the person had used was dull. Little cuts glared red at Arthur. Taking a step back and covering his mouth, Arthur felt a heat wave encase his head. He couldn't breath. Smoke was pouring down his throat. Red was everywhere. Arthur opened his mouth for air. He found none, his eyes started to water. He clutched York to his chest. _'It is not real. Not real, Arthur. You're talking to Alfred. Alfred. With wonderful, blue eyes and that happy face.' _Arthur found air and gulped it down.

"Arthur? Arthur! Hey!" Arthur titled his head up at the honey-coated voice and tried to slow his breathing. He looked around, hoping no one he knew saw him having a panic attack. Arthur examined himself. He was holding York, much to tightly, judging by the pained look he was giving Arthur. Letting go of the cat, he continued looking himself over. He had his basket hanging loosely in his hand. His face and neck felt much too hot. His back was against something warm and firm. He glanced up and was met with Alfred's eyes. The same ones that helped him calm down.

"Alfred," he whispered, his voice a raspy mess. He felt the American's arms around his middle. Strangely enough, Arthur didn't mind. If it wasn't for Alfred, he would be on the ground screaming.

"What the hell was that?" Alfred asked, letting go of Arthur and turning him around.

"B-Boston was bleeding." Arthur explained lamely.

"Yeah, York was trying to help. Look." Alfred turned Arthur again and pointed to their cats, who where laying by Feliciano's feet. Boston was stretched out on his side with his eyes closed, while York was laying by his belly, making a T with their bodies. York was licking the scrape on Boston's side...and purring.

Arthur stared for a moment then turned to Alfred. "What the bloody hell did your cat do to York? He meows yesterday, now he's purring in public!"

"Er...I dunno. Maybe York likes Boston!" Alfred grinned. "Is it so bad to have a friend?"

_'Yes! Because as soon as I feel comfortable you all die!' _Arthur didn't know why he thought that. He's sure it had to do with his family's murder, but he doesn't know why he can't love other human beings. He holds Eli and Roderich close to his heart, but he'll never tell them that they remind him of his parents, even though they are all the same age. Arthur wrung his hands, forcing himself not to think back to that day. Why can't he love people? How come it was so hard to bring people into his life? Sure Ludwig lived with him, but Arthur certainly didn't love the Jew. Arthur just didn't have the heart to let the man be sent to a horrible camp. "I..."_ 'Say something you twit! Alfred and Feliciano will think you belong in the asylum!' _Arthur cleared his throat. "I don't think friends are bad, just finding them is a pain. Finding a good friend whom you enjoy their company with can be very difficult. So I'm shocked a house cat like York has found a friend." Arthur stated, folding his arms and holding his shopping basket so tight his knuckles turned white. _'That was lame. So lame. Now I'm going to be shunned.'_

"Yeah, you're right. Boston has never really had a friend until we came here. I'm glad we walked into your library and found that charming cat of yours." Alfred smiled.

Arthur kept his mouth shut. He wasn't sure if Alfred was still talking about his cat or Arthur himself anymore. And he wasn't sure if he was okay or not with it. "Right. Well, you asked if Boston could stay with York? Yes, they can stay at my place. I'm sure York will keep Boston in line." Arthur forced a smile and looked between Alfred and Feliciano. "I'll see you two in an hour. Don't forget Matthew, Alfred."

"How could I forget my own brother?"

"You're American," Arthur actually smiled and called York to his side with Boston on his heels. "That explains everything." Arthur turned on his heel and walked back to his library.

**Authors note: Okay... so they didn't really have an adventure. And I'm sorry for the really long update! I'll try to get at least two to three in before the 5th. I'll try really hard! And Francis didn't come in like I wanted. It just kinda kept going and then it got toooooo loooonngg... and once again I'm being lazy so excuse this awful grammar I'm sure my Dearie is freaking out over. (Yes, I was freaking out over it. -Dearie) Next chapter I PROMISE Francis and a drunk Arthur. No open USUK yet though. It'll happen soon, I promise! I make a lot of promises. Well, I thank you for the reviews and favorites I love them all! Farewell story readers!**


	8. Drinking, Cursing, and Driving

**Chapter - 6 - Drinking, Cursing and Driving**

Alfred was grinning like an idiot when he found Matthew sitting on a bench, reading. "Why are you smiling like that, Al?" he asked when he saw Alfred approaching him.

"Because Arthur agreed to a _date_!" Feliciano giggled and hugged Alfred's arm.

"You asked him on a date?" Matthew stood and gaped at Alfred. "You don't even know if he's like us, Alfred!" he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making a lock pop up and curl wildly.

"Its not a date! You and Feliciano are coming with us, so it's like a double date." Alfred explained, holding his hands up.

"To him it's going out with a bunch of queers! He's probably doing it to see how we act and he's going to tell his real friends and they'll laugh and shun us even more!" Matthew scolded.

"I don't think he's like that, Mattie. He seems to like us. I mean, he shook Feli's hand and didn't wipe it off like he had a disease. He even agreed to having Boston stay with York at his place. I really think he's like us!" Alfred grinned again. "Don't you think so, Feli?"

"Well...he did have that thing about him..." Feliciano tried to help Alfred.

"That's just..." Matthew sighed. "He's English! They all seem gay!" Matthew waved his arms around.

"Mattie, you're making a scene. He might be, you never know."

"You just hope he is, Alfred." Matthew sighed again and picked up his book.

"I hope he is, maybe he has a blonde friend hiding in his attic." Feliciano laughed.

Alfred smiled. "Right. He has a handsome, blonde friend just waiting for you in his attic."

**USUKUSUK**

"I can't believe I'm going out with them. And I don't even know if it's a restaurant! It looked like one, but it could have been a strip bar for all I know!" Arthur paced in front of Ludwig who was sitting next to Boston and York, who were cuddling. The German was unaware that he was also sitting next to Miss Rosa.

"Then why did you agree?" Ludwig asked bluntly.

_"Because Arthur has a crush on Alfred the fighter pilot!" _chirped Miss Rosa.

James floated through the ceiling then and laughed. _"Arthur is jus' like ya Rosa! A big, frilly girl!"_

Arthur ignored both ghosts and answered Ludwig. "Because I find Alfred..." Having not thought about what he was saying, Arthur almost admitted to thinking that Alfred was quite fetching. "I find Alfred..." Arthur worried his lip, searching for the right word. A word that wouldn't set Ludwig off. If Ludwig was like those other men Alfred knew, Arthur could easily be beaten by the strapping Jew. "Alfred is...interesting." He concluded stupidly.

"I...see." replied Ludwig. "You know, Arthur, I am under your roof and I am not about to judge you, but, would you like to tell me something?"

Arthur looked at Miss Rosa. _"Tell him you fancy men, dear." _She winked. _"I promise you that he won't make fun. I know something about him that you don't."_

_"Don't tease the boy! So what if he don't wanna tell this Jew that he's a queer! We had men like 'im on the front line durin' the war!" _James sneered.

Miss Rosa rolled her eyes. _"Just do it, Arthur. This drunkard doesn't know a thing."_

_"Stupid woman."_

_"Slob of a man."_

Arthur sighed. "Alright." He looked at Ludwig and took a deep breath. "I..I'm not like other men." he started. Ludwig just gazed at him with a blank face, Arthur gulped and continued, hoping he didn't sound as dumb as he thought. "I don't find women...a-attractive. I...I prefer men." He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the beating he was sure that was going to come.

"Well, now that you've finally said that. Why don't you go have fun and I'll watch these weird-ass cats." Ludwig said.

Arthur looked up in shock. "What?"

"Arthur, not everyone can be stopped by the walls you've built around you. I saw through them quite easily."

"But, how?"

Ludwig smirked. "You have colorful bugs everywhere,"

"They're fairies."

"Exactly. You blush like a little girl when someone compliments you or the library. The only books I see you reading have shirtless men on pirate ships. You wear a pink apron when you cook. You knit and sew, and you cuddle your cat like it's a new born baby. Its not that hard to see how you really are when people are around you long enough."

Arthur stared at Ludwig. "But...I thought I did so well."

Ludwig stood and set his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Don't worry. We're the same, though by the way you describe Alfred, he sounds like a bumbling idiot."

Arthur's mouth dropped open. "You're...? What the bloody hell? Oh, bollocks! I'm such a twit! I'm sorry for not knowing, Ludwig."

"Don't be. Its hard to tell with me." Ludwig offered Arthur a smile. "Though that excitable Feliciano sounds interesting."

Arthur laughed softly. "I'll be sure to find out if he's one of us."

"If you want." Ludwig sounded like he didn't care, but from the slight twinkle Arthur found in his eyes, Arthur guessed he wanted to know. "Go have fun, and let someone see through your walls." Ludwig took his seat next to the cats. "Thanks again for the wurst."

"You're welcome." Arthur turned to Miss Rosa. "Is that what you knew?"

_"Yes, sir! I do believe you and Ludwig will be the bestest of friends!" _Miss Rosa clapped and giggled, making the book next to her shake. _"Now go change into something not so stuffy. Just because you are twenty does not mean you have to wear sweater vests and ties! Why don't you go put on just a plain white shirt? I'm thinking Alfred would fancy you relaxing a bit." _she smiled and showed off her ghostly white teeth.

"Alright, alright." Arthur took to the stairs while Ludwig shook his head in confusion at Arthur's random one-sided conversation.

_"That's right! Ye go get 'im, Arthur!"_

_"Do quiet down, James."_

Arthur smiled to himself. "You two never stop." He called up at them then turned into his room. He walked to his closet and saw Peter sitting on his bed. "Peter? What are you doing in here?"

Peter smiled. _"Alfred is a good one. I think he's funny. Do you like him?"_

Arthur crossed the room and sat beside the dead child. "I think I might take a liking to him. We've only met twice. That is why I'm going out tonight."

_"I like him. I hope you do, too."_

"Hmm...how about as soon as I find out what I think of Alfred, you're the first I tell?"

Peter's pale eyes seemed to glow a blue. Unusual for a ghost since they all are shaded in blacks, grays and whites._ "Okay, Arthur. Good luck."_

"Thank you, Peter. I think I'll be needing it."

**USUKUSUK**

"Should we see if he's inside?" Alfred paced in front of Matthew and Feliciano.

"It has only been five minutes, Al." Matthew sighed. "The clock hasn't even gonged."

"Ooh! Ooh!" Feliciano jumped.

"Do you see him?" Alfred stopped and faced the Italian.

"No, I just wanted to say that when the clock dings, however many times it sounds is the hour it is!" Feliciano grinned and pointed to the Big Ben tower.

"Good job, Feli." Matthew congratulated.

"I didn't know that. I thought the monster that lives up there just decideds how many times to hit his soup can." Alfred said, much like a child, then he heard a short laugh behind him.

"Well, that makes perfect sense, you brute." Alfred turned and saw Arthur wearing a plain, white button down shirt. Alfred busted out a grin.

"Artie! You made it!"

"Of course I did. Or did you think the monster in the clock tower got me?" Arthur smiled at Feliciano and Matthew. "Good to see you two again."

Feliciano hugged Arthur. "Hi!" Matthew grabbed the perky Italian and nodded his hello to Arthur.

"Come on, I'm starving!" Alfred declared and grabbed Arthur's hand. Arthur felt a shiver go down his spine. A shiver he felt quite pleasant, along with Alfred's strong, warm hand surrounding his small, fragile hand, Arthur thought his head was full of air. Until Alfred also grabbed Feliciano's hand.

"You're always hungry, Alfred." Matthew said quietly as his own hand was taken by Feliciano and the strange group entered the building Arthur pointed out earlier, which happened to be a tavern that served high point beer.

**USUKUSUK**

Arthur slammed down his mug and threw his arms in the air. "Beat all of your sorry arses!" he cheered and the tavern burst into yells.

Alfred set his mug down and laughed loudly. "You drink like a dying horse!"

Matthew shook his head at the drunk blondes and continued sipping his wine while Feliciano danced in the middle of the room with twenty other drinking people.

Arthur grabbed another mug and took a large gulp before turning to Alfred. "I haven't been out drinking since I was nineteen! And that was because I was a depressed bastard!" he laughed and Alfred's stomach spun around while his heart clenched.

_'Depressed..? What happened to Arthur?' _Alfred thought, gazing at Arthur who finished yet another mug.

"Hey, Alfred." Arthur slurred and slopped his head to the side to look at Alfred. His eyes were unfocused and his cheeks were wonderfully red. He spread his lips into a big, shit-eating grin. "Wanna know something?"

Alfred leaned into Arthur to hear him properly. If Arthur was going to tell secrets, he wanted to hear every word.

Arthur pressed his mouth against Alfred's ear and mumbled, "I find you quite..." he let out a hot breath and Alfred felt a tingle go down his back. "Quite...very...very...attractive." Arthur grinned and leaned back, grabbing the full mug nearest to him. "There, I said it!" he swallowed a mouthful of beer and looked at Alfred. "Well?"

"Is that the alcohol talking?" Alfred pulled his stool closer to the Englishman, who shook his head, sending his messy hair into crazy bounces.

"Nope. You pass everything on my list so far. If I could get you nude then I can finish the list." Arthur emptied the mug and looked for another one.

"What list?" Alfred asked and touched Arthur's shoulder. Alfred was sure he was hearing everything correctly, he was drunk, after all, not hammered like Arthur.

"Oh, well, you see. I grew up in a school with tons of guys, and I only liked one or two things about them, so I made a list of how I'll know my dream guy. I'll tell you one day." Arthur leaned over to Matthew. "Are you going to drink that, Mattie?"

Matthew backed away. "Er, yes."

"Let me have it." Arthur reached out and grabbed Matthew's arm roughly.

Never having been man-handled, Matthew jumped up. "Arthur! Stop!"

Arthur stood and glared at the quiet man. "I just want a drink, Matthew!"

"Alfred!" Matthew looked at the blue eyed American.

"Leave Alfred out of this! I just want a fucking drink!" Arthur shouted.

"He said stop, _monsieur_." Came a voice behind Arthur.

Arthur snorted and turned around. "What's a French frog gonna do?" He looked up at the man. He had wavy blonde hair and an awful beard. Arthur noticed his eyes were water blue. He smirked. No blue eyes could ever match Alfred's.

The Frenchman glared down at Arthur. "We French don't like it when other Frenchmen get thrown around."

Alfred stood and grabbed Arthur's shoulder. "I'm sorry, sir. He's had a bit to much to drink."

Arthur allowed Alfred to pull him to his larger body. "He's telling me what to do, fucking twat."

Matthew stepped forward. "Maybe you should take Arthur for a drive, Alfred." he looked up at the Frenchman and smiled.

"What?! I just wanted a fucking beer you bastard!" Arthur shouted.

"Arthur! It's okay!" Alfred picked up the drunk man and tossed him over his shoulder.

Arthur punched Alfred's broad back. "Put me down you git! I am not a sack of potatoes!"

Alfred turned to Matthew. "Will you make sure Feli gets back to the base? Oh, and don't do anything stupid." He glanced up at the Frenchman. "I'll see you back at the base." Alfred turned and walked out of the tavern with Arthur yelling curses and...actual curses. "Are you cursing them to hell?" Alfred asked.

"Yes! I am! They need to be cursed for...for...Alfred, put me down!" Arthur swung his legs and Alfred set him down.

"What is it? Arthur?" Alfred tried to grab Arthur's arms, but the Englishman turned and vomited into the curb. "Oh..." Alfred knelt down and rubbed Arthur's back. "I'll drive ya home, okay?"

Arthur wiped his mouth and blinked away his tears of humiliation. How come Alfred had to see him like this? Arthur felt disgusting and helpless and all he wanted to do was go home. "Okay."

Alfred picked up Arthur again and moved him to his back, piggy-back style. "Hold on, and try not to puke on me."

"Shut up, twit." Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's shoulders and felt strong muscles move underneath his fingers (check) as Alfred hooked his elbows around the back of Arthur's knees.

"My truck is just down this road." Alfred started walking and Arthur closed his eyes and settled his head against the back of Alfred's neck, barely listening as the American continued to talk. "You should eat more, Artie. I can hardly feel you back there. That sounded dirty." He laughed loudly. "But, seriously, you are like a nine year old."

"I do eat. I'm the average weight for my age." Arthur mumbled and burrowed is face into Alfred's hair.

"If your age was nine. When me and Mattie were growing up, the old woman who took care of us always said, 'Yur only 'eathly if ya got a bit o' meat on yur bones!' And she really talked like that."

Arthur smiled, though he wasn't sure if it was because of Alfred's story or Alfred's soft hair tickling his cheeks. He knew for sure that it had something to do with Alfred, though.

"Here we are." Alfred said and set Arthur down on the ground. He opened the door. "It's kinda a big step, do you need help?"

"I got it, twit." Arthur grabbed the door and the wind shield frame and boosted himself into the truck.

Alfred turned and giggled into his hand.

"What?" Arthur snapped.

"You just looked so cute doing that." Alfred grinned and shut the door.

Arthur felt his neck heat up and waited for Alfred to get into the truck before folding his arms with a huff.

Alfred just laughed and started the truck. "You are probably the most entertaining man I have ever met, Arthur." Alfred turned off the curb and into traffic...on the wrong side.

Arthur jumped. "You are on the wrong side of the road!"

"No I'm not. I'm on the right side." Alfred looked at Arthur.

"We're in London!" Arthur hauled himself across the bench seat and almost into Alfred's lap. "We drive on the _left _side here!" He put his hands over Alfred's and turned the wheel sharply, pulling them into the correct lane. "Stupid American!"

Alfred just sat stock still and let Arthur drive with his small hands over his own.

"By the way, you can't hold me to anything I do or say while I'm drunk." Arthur mumbled, looking for his library.

"What about now?"

"Since I puked, I'm not as drunk, but from now on I will take any blame for what I do or say."

"So I can count this as you holding my hands?"

Arthur looked down at the steering wheel and jerked his hands back. "No, you cannot!"

Alfred just laughed softly and parked outside of Arthur's library. "Hey, Artie."

Relishing the shiver going down his back, Arthur turned to Alfred. "Yes?"

"What's the name of your library?"

Arthur was silent. He didn't have a name for his library, it was always just 'his library'. "I don't have one."

"Why?"

"Never thought of a name."

Alfred smiled. "Well, how about tomorrow me and you come up with one?"

"You and I, and why would we be doing that?"

"Because I want to take you on a date. A real date. With no beer."

Arthur's stomach felt like all of the fairies he knew and their friends were flying around wildly. "A...a date?"

"Yeah. We can go on a walk through the city and have lunch and...and...and come up with a name for your library!"

Arthur thought about what he was being asked. Alfred wanted him to go out. Like they were in high school. Arthur looked out the side window and saw his bedroom window curtain move. _'Ludwig must think this is an officer. I need to get inside and calm him down.' _Arthur took a deep breath. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay, I'll go."

Alfred grinned and ruffled Arthur's hair. "I'll be here at ten then, Artie!"

Arthur was too tired to care about the nickname. He enjoyed Alfred saying it in his loud American accent so why correct him? "Alright, and I'll watch Boston tonight. York is most likely glued to his side." Arthur offered a small smile and opened the door. "Good night, Alfred."

"Night, Artie." Alfred leaned across the bench seat and pecked Arthur on his flushed cheek. "See ya in the morn'."

Arthur nodded and slipped from the truck. He waved Alfred off then went to his room.

"How was it?" Ludwig asked, Miss Rosa, James and Peter surrounding him, all with eager looks.

Arthur looked at Peter and smiled his biggest smile in years. "I have a real date for tomorrow."

**USUKUSUK**

**Author's note: Sooo... I went back and read these little note things... It totally looked like I was on something. Haha alright, so, Francis like I promised, drunk Artie, like I promised. Yay I didn't lie this time! Next chapter! First part will be Mattie and that Franada I promised! The second part will be Alfred's and Arthur's date! Keep reviewing and check back here soon!**


	9. Dates and Foolish Things

**Chapter - 7 - Dates and Foolish Things**

Matthew doesn't do the same things Alfred does. He doesn't take risks like his older brother. He isn't loud and out-spoken. He doesn't fight with men who carry guns. And he most certainly doesn't go out with Frenchmen named Francis. But, when Francis stood up for Matthew, even if it wasn't that big of a deal since it was Arthur, he felt like someone was actually looking _at _him instead of _through _him. So, when Francis offered Matthew a walk through London, Matthew accepted.

They had walked down to base with Feliciano. Matthew made sure the Italian was safely inside before turning to Francis. "Where did you want to go?"

Francis smiled and rubbed his chin. "Well, it's ten at night in London. What is there to do?"

"I don't know." Matthew said honestly. He had never stayed out this late since he and Alfred had lived on the streets.

"Hmm... _mon cher _doesn't seem to know what he wants."

Matthew's face flamed at the French endearment. "I would actually like to get some sweets. They don't serve them on base."

Francis sighed. "They also don't serve them in the city. It's very difficult to get sugar around here with the war." He gestured to the street and the two started walking.

"How long have you been here, Francis?"

"About a year." Francis's face seem to droop a bit at the question.

Matthew could understand. He didn't like explaining that he shot down planes, but he had to know what this man did. He didn't act like a soldier, he used French as much as he could, and thankfully, Matthew was French-Canadian so he understood what Francis said. He had longer hair than what was allowed. _'Maybe he's like me and Alfred. They never make us cut our hair because they think longer hair separates us from them.' _Matthew smiled and asked, "What do you do?"

"I'm clean up control. If a bomb drops, I go in and get the injured out before they die. After the dust has settled, I get the dead. My team gets names for those missing and identifies the bodies." Francis stopped walking. "We have seen so many people die, _mon cher_, I don't think this war will ever end."

Matthew felt his heart squeeze. He stood in front of Francis. "Of course it will. Alfred and I will end it for you."

"Ahh...how sweet. But, I wouldn't like that."

"Eh, what?" Matthew's heart stopped being trapped and jumped to his throat. He was trying to flirt a bit so this charming Frenchman would take him on a date! He didn't know it would be a hit and miss.

"I would prefer if you stayed safe and let the others handle it." Francis smiled and Matthew saw what seemed to be sparkles float around the other man. Must be the full moon.

"I don't think I understand." Matthew's head felt heavy and his knees seemed to weaken.

"I'm sorry. I must have not said it clearly. I want you to stay out of the fighting. You look far too fragile to be shot at. What if your plane crashes?"

Matthew stared at the man. "You... have got to be kidding. We've known each other for twenty minutes and you are already trying to tell me what to do?" Matthew hardly ever raised his voice, but this man had the nerve to tell him he was fragile and little? Oh, no. Matthew slowly became louder with each word. "I have lived on the streets! I went weeks without eating! I think I can handle a little fighting, Francis!"

Francis brought his hands to his shoulders. "_Mon cher_! Do you not recognize me?" Matthew struggled under the man's warm hands, not wanting to calm down. "Don't you remember? We all got moved from France to Canada. You were adopted by that lady and you cried while clinging to me. I remember you leaving, Matthieu. It was heartbreaking."

Matthew stopped moving and thought back. He had lived in France when he was little. He had a best friend. He was blonde with water blue eyes. Matthew was four when they became attached, his friend was ten. He had given Matthew his polar bear for his fifth birthday, the same year they were all moved from France to Canada in hopes of being taken by families. The other kids seemed to leave every day. After a year, Matthew and his friend were the only ones who were left. Then, Matthew got adopted. Only him. Thinking about it again made Matthew's eyes fill with tears. He had grabbed his friends legs. He remembered his friend trying to hold onto Matthew, saying that they had to be together. No one had listened to their cries or their pleas. Matthew was taken by Mrs. Jones, who turned out to be his biological mother, and never saw his friend again.

"That woman who took me. She was my real mother. She had an affair in France when she and my adoptive father were on vacation with my half brother." Matthew felt salt in his mouth. He was crying openly. He let out a soft sob at the painful memory of being taken from the only person who had actually loved him before Alfred. "When Al and I got older, we tracked down who my father was. He died a week after I was born. I was born in France. Al's father had gone to Austria for work for a year. While he was gone Mother and Al were stuck in France with me growing in her belly. She had me, dropped me off at the orphanage and went home with Al and his father."

"What a horrible woman." Francis put his hands on Matthew's cheeks and caught his tears with long, slender fingers.

Matthew smiled. "If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have met my best friend. He's six years older than me. He has blonde hair and blue eyes. We always spoke in French."

Francis let his own charming smile creep into his face and switched to French with practiced ease. "What else do you remember about this friend?"

"He gave me his treats when we got them. He was my tooth fairy, my Santa, my Easter bunny and my protector." Matthew replied in French, surprised he could speak so fluently after so many years. "How old are you, Francis?"

"Twenty-five, my dear," Francis dried Matthew's cheeks. "and you are nineteen, correct?"

Matthew nodded. "Are you...?"

"Why else would I want to protect you, my dear?"

Matthew shook his head and grinned. "I thought I would never see you again!" He threw his arms around Francis's neck.

Francis laughed and wrapped his arms around Matthew's waist. "I as well, my dear. I'm glad I found you. That curl of yours is unforgettable!"

Matthew closed his eyes and clung to his almost forgotten friend. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. It's been so long."

"It has. Why don't we stop at a quiet bar and catch up? I want to know why you were living on streets."

Matthew stepped back and tangled his fingers with Francis's. "That story actually has a happy ending."

Francis smiled "Does it end with 'happily ever after'?"

"No. It ends with 'then he found his first love again.'" Matthew blushed and let Francis gaze into his eyes.

"I think I want to hear the sequel to that story." Francis started walking, holding Matthew close to his side.

"You're not going to hear it, Francis."

"Oh? And why is that, my dear?"

Matthew hadn't even realized that they were still speaking French. "Because you are going to live it with me." He felt his whole face flare up and he looked away from the Frenchman.

Francis turned Matthew's chin so he was forced to look into ocean blues. "I can't wait."

Matthew said good night to Alfred later with his lips tingling and his head in the clouds.

**USUKUSUK**

_"What are you wearing on your date, Arthur?" _Miss Rosa asked, walking into Arthur's room. She always liked to act like she was still alive, while Peter and James spooked her by bursting through walls.

Arthur looked up from the outfits he had spread over his bed, still in his night-shirt. "I don't know. I like dark green, but Alfred's eyes are blue and I'm starting to think that's my new favorite color."

James's laugh came flitting through the attic. He appeared seconds later. _"This ain't no school girl crush! Arthur is smitten with that Alfred fella!"_

Arthur blushed and let out a deep breath. "Just so you know, this is my first date!"

"Seriously? I thought you were twenty." Ludwig descended the hidden stairs and looked around Arthur's room.

Arthur had closed the library today. He didn't want Alfred to come and see that Arthur was busy with a couple of almost blind old ladies. With downstairs all locked up, Ludwig was able to come out from the attic, as long as the curtains were drawn. "I am twenty, that doesn't mean I had to have been on dates."

"What have you been doing for the last five years?" Ludwig picked up one of Arthur's ties.

"Studying to become a writer." Arthur examined his clothing again.

"Oh. Well, maybe I can help. Along with your 'ghosts', we should be able to get you presentable for a first date." Ludwig set the tie back down.

Miss Rosa clapped, making Boston and York come bolting down the stairs. _"Yay! We get to dress Arthur up!"_

Arthur glared at the cheery ghost. "Fine. What time is it?"

_"You have an hour before Alfred is here, Arthur." _Peter came running around Miss Rosa with a big smile on his young face, a rare sight. _"And I did what you asked me to do. That Italian is gay. He was talking to Alfred about finding out if you hide handsome blonde men in your attic."_

"Oh, wow. That is...quite the coincidence." Arthur smiled. "Thank you, Peter. Why don't you play with Boston and York now?"

_"Okay!" _Peter smiled and went over to the cats.

"What is a coincidence, Arthur?" Ludwig asked, looking at the man.

"Since I got hammered last night, I sent Peter to see if that Italian I told you about was gay. Turns out, he hopes that I'm hiding handsome, blonde men in my attic." Arthur went back to his closet and grabbed his brown sweater vest. He put it back when he heard Miss Rosa inhale sharply. Even though she couldn't breath, she still made the noise.

Ludwig let out a snort of amusement. "Wow. That is a coincidence."

"Yeah." Arthur sighed and looked at Ludwig and Miss Rosa. "Can we get me dressed now?"

_"Oh! Yes, of course!" _Miss Rosa strode over to Arthur's bed.

"No ties." She and Ludwig said at the same time. Arthur smiled at Ludwig's shocked look and his questions about an echo. This day could only go up hill.

**USUKUSUK**

Alfred came and knocked on the glass door to the library. Miss Rosa squealed and clapped her hands. _"He's here, Arthur!"_

"He's here, Ludwig." Arthur looked one last time in the mirror. They had decided on Arthur's pre-war green sweater vest he had since he was seventeen. Turns out he hadn't grown much in the last three years. He had on his normal brown slacks, but Ludwig had rolled up the sleeves on Arthur's white dress shirt to make him look more relaxed. Miss Rosa asked the fairies if they could tame Arthur's hair, but all of the fairies just laughed and continued playing keep-away with Boston as York watched him from his perch on the bed.

"Okay, I'll go upstairs. Don't get drunk or you'll ruin the whole date." Ludwig stood from petting York and smiled softly at the nervous Arthur. "And do try to warn me if he's coming here. You might like him, but he could be a German spy."

"I know that." Arthur said, though he hoped that Alfred wasn't a spy. That would be awful. Arthur might be killed by the man he's dreamt of. Twice. "Good bye, Ludwig."

_"Hurry, Arthur. Alfred looks like he's scared." _Peter poked his head into the room.

"I'm coming." Arthur waved Ludwig up the stairs and slid the bookshelf into place. He heard another knock. "I'm coming!" He hollered down his spiral staircase. He straightened his sweater vest then rushed down the stairs. He saw Alfred shuffling his feet and smiled. Alfred was as anxious as he was. That means that Alfred likes him, right?

Shaking his head clear of day dreams, Arthur went to the door and unlocked it. "Good morning, Alfred." Arthur smiled at the relieved look on the American's face.

"Mornin', Artie! Do ya have a hang over?" Alfred grinned.

Arthur let out a short laugh. "Just a slight headache. I think all the beer I drank is in that gutter." He let is face go into a relaxed smile.

"Maybe lunch can fix that headache!" Alfred laughed.

"Maybe." Arthur looked from Alfred's eyes to the matching blue sky. "And it looks like we can eat outside."

"Awesome, but before we go, can I see Boston?"

"Yes, of course. I'll have Peter play with them while we're gone. York! I have treats!" Arthur opened the door and moved so Alfred could come in. They went to Arthur's desk and the shorter pulled out a jar filled to the brim with cat treats.

"Why do you have so many?"

"They are hard to come by, so I stock up when I see any." Arthur looked at the stairs and saw York running behind Boston. "Is your cat a little over weight?"

"Nah, he's just fluffy. Boston!" Alfred knelt down and picked up his cat. "Did you and York do it all night?" Alfred stood and rubbed Boston's belly "Your owie looks better." Boston meowed and nuzzled his cheeks against Alfred's shoulder.

Arthur smiled and watched the endearing American. _'He really is cute when he gets like that. I wonder what it would be like to be treated like that.' _Arthur thought, not caring where his thoughts were going, or that his crush was blossoming into something bigger. "I couldn't get them to stop when I came to bed. I do think that your cat is a horn dog."

Alfred sat on the ground and folded his legs. "Boston ain't a dog though. He's a horn cat." Boston sat beside his master and York trotted over to them and laid at Boston's feet. York rolled onto his back and Boston began to lick his belly. "Oh, how cute." Alfred grinned up at Arthur.

"Yes, very cute." Arthur bent down and gave treats to Boston and York. "Shall we go now?"

"Yup." Alfred kissed Boston's ear and stood. "Do you know any good places for lunch?"

No. "How about we walk around for a bit? It is only ten after all." Arthur gave York a good scratch on his neck and went to the door with Alfred on his heels.

"That'll be fun! We can go to Thames!"

"You say it with a _t _noise, Alfred. Like tame. And more of an _e _noise." Arthur grinned at the foolish American and locked the door behind them. He gave a wave to his ghosts and took off down the street, Alfred following like an eager puppy.

"Oh. That's weird. Why do you English talk weird?"

Arthur scoffed. "It is you Americans that disgrace the Queen's English. You talk like you grew up in a barn."

"There ain't nothing wrong with the way I talk, Artie."

"_Ain't _is not a word, Alfred." Arthur felt a tingle go down his back.

"It is in America. We use it all the time."

"Because you Americans ruin the Queen's English!" Arthur couldn't help but smile as the sun shone on his face and the light spring breeze flitted past them.

"You Englishers talk like you have a head cold!" Alfred grinned, the sun bouncing off his caramel hair, making a halo around his sweet face. "_And _you are all so _rude _to the Americans 'cos we get candy!"

Arthur's mouth dropped open. "You have sweets?"

"Yeah. We get chocolate, sour candies, chewy candy, suckers, and mints. Why?"

"I haven't had sweets in years! If I come across one, I let Peter have it. He can't eat it, but he likes collecting them. I open them a bit so he can smell them."

Alfred pinched his lip and put his other hand in his bomber jacket. "That sucks, Artie. I'm sorry."

"It is quite alright, Alfred." Arthur smiled and cast his gaze around the city.

"Who is Peter again?"

Arthur looked up at Alfred. Did he think Arthur was crazy? That was what he wanted the first day, now he wanted Alfred to like him. Ghosts and all. "A little boy I know. He lives with me."

"You said he can't eat the candy. Is he sick? And you yelled at Mattie for... sitting on him?"

"In a way he is sick." How does one explain that they can actually see ghosts? "He died a couple years ago and Matthew was sitting in his favorite chair."

"But... I'm confused, Arthur." Alfred looked down at Arthur.

"Peter was nine when he died. His twelfth birthday just passed." Arthur took a breath. When did it become so hard to draw air? "He was playing on the harbor and slipped off the dock. A boat came in and ran him over. No one knew he fell in until they saw his white clothes in the black water. Some men pulled him out and tried to take him to the hospital. They got as far as the building my library is in now. He says he died crying happily. He told me a year after his death, 'I was crying happily because I thought I could see Mama again, but I didn't see her. I was lost.'" Arthur took another breath, this time it shuddered.

"How did you remember all of that?" Alfred rested his hand on the small of Arthur's back.

Arthur looked up at Alfred. "I remember what Peter told me because it broke my heart."

Alfred looked at Arthur in shock. "You are not kidding are you?"

"No. Peter is with me until he can find his mother."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know. I wish I did. Peter is quiet and doesn't like talking. It's strange. Whenever he passes through me, I get flashes of him being so happy and cheerful. Like you, Alfred."

"Hey, Arthur?"

"Yes?" Arthur looked up at Alfred and smiled, hoping to show that even though Peter's story was sad, he was glad to be on a date with the American.

"How do I see the ghosts?"

Arthur blinked in confusion. "I'm not sure. No one has ever asked. I'll see if Miss Rosa knows." Looking over to his right, Arthur saw an outdoor tea shop. "Let's stop there." He smiled and led Alfred to a table. "Why do you want to know how to see ghosts?"

"I just thought that if I could see ghosts, I could help Peter be more happy."

Arthur smiled at Alfred. "I think that would be a splendid idea."

Alfred pulled a chair out and blushed. "Sorry, force of habit." Arthur sat down gracefully and smiled.

"I actually find it quite charming." He helped Alfred scoot him closer to the table and watched Alfred plunk himself down in the chair opposite him.

"Who is Miss Rosa?" Alfred asked, sliding off his jacket.

Arthur tilted his head at Alfred's short sleeves. His arms were toned, but not hugely disgusting. Perfect for holding onto (check). "She is older than Peter. I believe she is around fifteen, judging by her outfit. She wears this really long gown with a bodice and a rose on top. She has this hat that leans to her face with roses overflowing from it. I haven't really seen her face in the light, but she acts like a child and bickers with James. She's very kind to Peter and tends to mother me."

Alfred smiled. "She sounds nice."

"She is." Arthur looked up at the waiter that came to their table and ordered tea and a scone. Alfred didn't seem to know that London doesn't serve American food. Arthur chuckled and jumped in. "He'll have the same thing as I. With lots of butter and sugar." Arthur pulled out his money bag and handed a couple pounds to the waiter.

"Yes, sir." The waiter pocketed the money and went to fill their order.

"Why did you do that?" Alfred asked.

"It is hard to come by sugar for cheap."

"No. I mean order for me?"

_'Because I didn't want you to get shunned by a waiter because you're different. Because I thought it would be cute if I did something like that. Because I want everyone to leave us alone.'_ "Because you looked like... like you needed help." The insult Arthur had prepared fell from his lips when he saw the hopeful gleam in Alfred's eyes.

"Oh." Alfred grinned. "Thank you."

Arthur smiled and felt his cheeks heat up. The waiter returned with their food and left them alone. Arthur picked up a sugar cube and dropped it into his tea. He stirred it gently with the spoon and watched Alfred with an intense, green gaze. The American first smelt the drink, then sunk his finger in it. He pulled it out with a yelp.

"It's hot!"

Arthur laughed. "Of course it is, you git!"

"Who serves hot tea in spring?!" Alfred shook his finger.

"What did you think it was?" Arthur leaned across the table and grabbed Alfred's hand.

"I thought it would be iced tea!" Alfred let Arthur take hold of his hand and even blushed. "It's warm outside, who wants something warm to drink? You crazy English."

"What on earth is _iced _tea?" Arthur examined Alfred's finger. It was a little red, but wouldn't blister. "Our tea is like your coffee. You drink that repulsive stuff like it'll save your life. You Americans are just daft."

"Iced tea is tea in a glass with ice cubes and lemon slices!"

"That sounds strange. I'll have to try it one day."

"I'll make sure to get you some." Alfred smiled. "So, what's the damage?"

"Lucky for you it wasn't boiling. It is just a bit red, but will be fine otherwise." Arthur took his gaze off Alfred's hand to his eyes. Alfred gulped and looked right back at Arthur. Smirking slightly, Arthur raised Alfred's finger to his lips. He kissed the red spot on Alfred's finger, then released his hand. Arthur sat back and continued to stir his tea.

Alfred took his hand back and coughed. "Uhm...Why did you get extra sugar?"

"For you. I thought you would like your tea a bit more sweet."

"Oh. Thank you."

Arthur smiled. "Put one in at a time so you don't ruin it."

Alfred did as Arthur said and continued their earlier conversation. "So, who is James?"

"A drunkard from the Revolutionary War. He was injured in battle and became a drunk. He fell over outside of my building one night and was ran over by a horse and carriage." Arthur sipped his tea. "He is not my favorite."

"I think Peter is. Oh, hey, how come Miss Rosa and James can't move on?"

"Miss Rosa says someone from her life has to set her free and James is too stubborn. Nothing is holding him here. He was about to leave when I moved in, but he deemed me entertaining enough to stay."

Alfred tried his tea and smiled. "This ain't so bad. Kinda like warm iced tea." Arthur laughed at the foolish comment.

"You are rather clueless, Alfred."

"Your laugh is really cute, Artie."

Arthur inhaled sharply and coughed into his hand, his face flaring. Alfred continued talking, obviously trying to get something out. "And I think that you are interesting enough for me to stay."

Arthur caught his breath and stared at Alfred, speechless.

"Are you okay?" Alfred reached out and touched Arthur's hand. Arthur pulled his hand back.

"Oh, Alfred. I don't know a thing about you and you only know that I can see ghosts!"

"Is that it?" Alfred laughed. "Alright, my name is Alfred Franklin Jones, after my grandfather. My birthday is July fourth. I ran away from home when I was a kid with Matthew. We walked from Boston to Atlanta, sleeping anywhere and everywhere. Eating anything we could find. This old lady took us in one day. She never called us our real names even though we told her plenty of times. I worked late after Matt's shift was over so could take care of the woman. By then I was fifteen. When Matthew turned sixteen, he moved back to Boston and I went... crazy. I was seventeen, but from working so hard I looked older so they let me in bars. I was shit faced every night. I did drugs with the tree-huggers in the town square. I stole. I was out of control. The cops knew my name and face. They gave me warnings that I never cared about. Then they shipped me back to Boston and I found Mattie again. He was at a training camp I joined. With my help, me and Mattie became the best pilots there. Once we both turned nineteen, they sent us over here. When I first arrived, we drove into the first bombed village. They wanted to show us what we would be ending. I looked out the window and saw a man laying flowers down next to six crosses." Alfred scrunched up his nose, making him look like a child. "The man had blonde hair and was alone. He knelt in the ash and his shoulders started to shake. When I saw that grown man crying alone in a land of ruin, I swore to myself to end this awful war and bring justice to all of those hurt by those damn Germans." Alfred smiled. He had left the part of him sleeping with strangers out. He didn't want to scare Arthur away. "I was Mattie's hero for years. I think it's time for him to be a hero to others and for me to be a hero for someone else." he sipped his tea. "I have been clean and sober for a year and six months. Not counting last night since you drank enough for the both of us and I didn't vomit."

Arthur spun his cup around on the table. "What was the man wearing?"

"A green sweater vest."

Either Alfred was being daft on purpose or he was just that oblivious. Arthur knew the day he was talking about. It was the third year anniversary of his family's murders. Arthur usually brought York, but with all of the soldiers marching around, Arthur had left him home with Ludwig. Arthur brought lilies that day, for his mother. He knelt down in the ash as the truck drove behind him, hoping to appear stationary instead of a weeping mess. Arthur sighed deeply. "I'm proud of you, Alfred."

Alfred looked up from his cup. "Hm?"

Arthur smiled. "For being clean for so long, and for being a wonderful hero." he stood and offered his hand to Alfred, not caring that people were watching. He was ready to tell Alfred everything. Now that he knew they were linked before they even met, Arthur felt like a strong hero was watching over him. "Come on. I want to show you something."

Alfred grinned and grabbed the remaining sugar cubes. "Alright." he stuffed his pockets, took hold of Arthur's hand and stood. "Lead the way." He laughed as he snatched his jacket before Arthur pulled him down the street.

**USUKUSUK**

**Author's note: Who is ready for Artie's home life? And very mild USUK? I have a plan for next chapter and I'm super excited! Prepare to be saddened then happy then... bleh bleh bleh. I don't know. It's crazy! Stay tuned!**


	10. Out of the Attic

**Chapter - 8 - Out of the Attic**

_'What could Arthur be so worried about?' _Alfred thought as he kept hold of Arthur's hand and allowed the short man to weave their way through a throng of people. _'His hand is shaking. Is he scared? Maybe I should do something to make him feel better? But what? I think Mattie told me something about hand squeezing. Would that work, or will it be like I'm making a move? Well, unless I do it gently. Like a brother would. Yeah, I'm good at that. Me and Mattie do it all the time.' _Alfred paused his internal conversation and smiled. _'Mattie and I. Damn, this guy can sure get under my skin. Strange enough, I really don't mind. He's kinda like a rejected cat who needs love. Wonder what happened to his family. Maybe this is him opening up to me. Is he nervous? Who am I kidding? We're both scared and nervous. Maybe I should hold his hand tighter. Maybe he'll like it and squeeze mine back.' _Holding his breath, Alfred tightened his grip around Arthur's fingers.

Arthur looked back, shock and confusion on his face. When he saw Alfred's worried look, he relaxed and smiled. He squoze* Alfred's hand in response. Alfred's heart soared and he felt Arthur's hand slack into a more comfortable grip.

"Where are we going?"

"Back to my place. I have something to show-" Arthur stopped shortly and Alfred ran into his back, making him fall forward. Alfred gasped and wrapped his arm around Arthur's wasit, saving him from eating concrete.

"What are you doing?"

"Shh!" Arthur took Alfred's arm and yanked him behind the corner of a building. "Two people are outside my library. They were selling meat the other day and asked me strange questions."

_'We never thought of a name for his library. Damn. Wait...' _Alfred tilted his head. "Why were they asking you questions?"

"I bought some German sausage. It'll make sense once we get inside." Arthur peeked around the building. "They aren't leaving."

Alfred poked his head over Arthur's and looked down the block. A tall man with a long scarf was talking to a short man with a pony tail over his shoulder. At least Alfred thought it was a man. He was wearing a long dress thing and slippers. "Why are you so scared?" Alfred squinted his eyes and looked at the taller man. He seemed familiar.

"I have something I shouldn't have and I'm scared that they'll find out."

Alfred nodded and rested his hand on Arthur's waist. "Hey, do you remember the taller man's hair color?"

Arthur shuddered. "Yes, and his awful eyes. His hair is almost white and his eyes are a disturbing purple hue."

"Holy shit, Arthur. Those guys are bounty hunters."

"For what?" Arthur gripped the building with white fingers.

"Run away Jews." Alfred looked down at Arthur. Did he have a Jew? How did one get all the way to England? "Arthur?"

"Go scare them away!" Arthur shoved Alfred in the direction of the bounty hunters.

"Arthur-"

"Hurry! Please!" Arthur's face looked paler than usual. His eyes were the size of saucers and glossed over with fear.

"Alright." Alfred made his way to the two men(?) and cleared his throat. The shorter one looked up and smiled.

"Hello. Do you know why the library is closed today, aru?" From his voice, Alfred guessed it was a guy, and by the thick Chinese accent, not English. _'I don't remember Ivan the Menace having a Chinese...bodyguard? Maybe he's the brains of the operation.'_

"I uhm... I heard that the librarian got sick." Alfred lied. He felt like he had to lie because if Arthur was terrified behind him, there must be something the two men would fine wrong with his library. This was the time to be a hero.

"Is that so?" the larger man said, he looked down at the smaller man who shuffled his feet.

"U-uhm. Show him the photo, Ivan." The Chinese man whimpered.

The Russian showed Alfred a photo that was in color. "Do you know any of these men?" Alfred took the photo and studied it. Four men were on a porch, two younger looking men were sitting on the steps while the older two were leaning on each other behind them. One of the sitting men had shaggy platinum blonde hair and strange brown eyes that almost resembled a faded red. He had his arm around the other man and was grinning broadly. Alfred turned to the other man who also had blonde hair, but his was more golden. His eyes were clear blue and even though he wasn't smiling, Alfred saw something like admiration in his eyes. The two standing men had their arms around each other. The shorter of the two had a bit longer than shoulder length white hair with a braid falling over his shoulder. His arm was crossed over his body and his hand was hooked on the other mans hip. The taller man was a stronger, taller, older Feliciano. Alfred bit his tongue. Feliciano always said that his grandpa was a great and powerful man who's popular with the girls, and that he left a lot on trips to check on the rest of their family that was scattered through out Italy. _'Was this one of his trips? He had a lover and had to leave his grandsons to see him? Well, if Ivan the Menace is asking about them, they must be Jewish.'_

Alfred looked up from the upsetting picture and shook his head. "No, none of them look familiar."

Ivan glared down at his small Chinese companion. The short man must have read something in his eyes that made him flinch because he looked at Alfred and said, "Will you ask around for us, aru? We have business to do the rest of our stay here and don't have the time."

"Uh, sure." Accepting the man's request meant keeping the picture and showing it to Feli. "What are your names so I can find you again?"

"You westerners call me Yao Wang, aru. Where I come from it is Wang Yao. You'll be able to find us under my first or last name, aru." Yao smiled and stepped into Ivan's arms, willingly. "When do you think the librarian will be on his feet again?"

"At least a couple of weeks. I hear he has that one bug that's been going around." the lie came easily after years of lying about himself.

Yao looked up at Ivan, who had wrapped his arms around Yao's slim hips and interlocked his fingers so that they rested on the small man's lower stomach. "I see, aru. Well, thank you for your help." Yao smiled and took Ivan's hand. The strange couple walked down the street. Right to Arthur's hiding spot.

Alfred's stomach dropped to his feet. Ivan was not only a run away Jew bounty hunter. He hunted anyone who had a crime and needed to be punished. He killed anyone who got in his way. When he found the person he was looking for, he would torture them for information. Anyone who was around the person at the time was forced to watch. Even if it was a stranger, they watched Ivan torture a man, woman, sometimes even children who run messages and sneak food. It didn't matter their age or gender, Ivan would get them and kill them without mercy. So when Alfred saw him and Yao turn the corner to Arthur's place, Alfred almost fell to the ground. He waited for the scream or a splash of blood on the cobblestones. He waited. Waited. Waited. Nothing. No yelp of shock, no gun or swishing sound of a sword. No splatter of blood or thud of a body on the ground. Everything was quiet on Arthur's street on the outskirts of the busy part of London.

"Alfred?"

Alfred looked around. He saw a flower shop, and a run down toy store. He turned around, scanning the area again. Arthur's library, a housing building, and a closed clothing store. No Arthur.

"Alfred!" two arms encircled Alfred's middle and he looked down in shock. Arthur had come from the opposite side of the street he was hiding on. He must have seen the Russian and his partner and ran around the block. "I thought they might have gotten you! Did you know them?"

"Arthur." Alfred hugged the Englishman hard. "I'm fine. They wanted to talk to you. They gave me this picture. I know of him, Arthur. I'll tell you more inside. But look at this." Alfred left one arm across Arthur's shoulders and showed him the photo.

Arthur's eyes were glossed with fear and he was shaking under Alfred's arm. His skin was sickly pale, but when he looked at the picture, his face turned from scared to worried, then back to scared. "Come on in, Alfred. Hurry now." He took Alfred's hand and led him inside.

**USUSKUSUK**

"Why did you give him that picture, Yao? That was the only one we had." Ivan held onto Yao's hand so tightly, Yao was sure it would snap.

"Please trust me, Ivan, aru. I saw a man buy that German meat we had as bait and asked who he was. He is the librarian here and he was quite fine yesterday, aru." Yao stopped walking as soon as he was sure they were out of sight of the American. He went to the end of the building and watched the blonde man look around with fear in his eyes.

"You better be right or I'll punish you again." Ivan came up behind Yao and hooked his fingers around the shorter's hip.

"Watch, Ivan." the Chinese said quickly. He still ached from the punishment he got last night for talking to strangers without Ivan at his side. It wasn't like he hated Ivan, he was just the kind of guy who looked scary. When Yao was alone with Ivan in private, Ivan was just like a kid who was too rough with his toys, and Yao happened to be one of his toys. His favorite actually. The 'punishment' was just that Ivan forced himself into Yao, instead of preparing him like he usually did, and that Yao was strapped down, gagged and crying for Ivan to stop and that he was sorry. Yao came into Ivan's life when he still lived in China. Yao had been living on his own and stole whatever he needed. One day he stole from Ivan, and in exchange for his life, Yao was bound to Ivan for as long as he lived. Over some time, Yao developed feelings for Ivan. Ivan seemed to love Yao, but to the Chinese man, he just seemed to think of Yao as a toy he had when he was younger. But, when ever Yao wasn't feeling well or injured, a sweet side to Ivan came out and he nursed the small man back to health. Now that they were in London, looking for Ludwig Beilschmidt, there were many more people here than in cold, dreary Russia, Yao was surprised that he didn't have a leash around his neck. Yao clutched the brick wall, hoping he was right. He really didn't want a leash or another punishment from the endearing, frightening, rough Russian.

"I don't see anything, Yao." Ivan whispered against Yao's ear.

"A bit more, aru. I promise." Yao placed his hand over Ivan's.

"Alfred!" Yao let out a relieved sigh as the blonde man from yesterday came running out from behind the building around the block and hugged the tall American. "I thought they might have gotten you! Did you know them?" the librarian asked as he clung to the larger man, who wrapped his arms around the other's small frame.

"Arthur." Yao leaned closer to hear them more clearly, but Ivan pulled him back.

"Can you get to the roofs?" the Russian asked, holding Yao closely to his chest.

"Yes, aru. It will be easy. Why?"

"I want you to see what is in that man's house. He is hiding something." Ivan ran his fingers down Yao's arm, making him shiver even through the long sleeve of his traditional Chinese robe.

Yao closed his eyes as Ivan's hand traveled farther down his arm. "I will make sure to get what we need." Yao allowed a smile onto his face. "I will do my very best for Ivan, aru."

Ivan smiled softly at Yao's words and slipped his hand very low around Yao's slim waist. "If you succeed-"

"When I succeed, Ivan." Yao opened his fierce golden eyes. "Do not degrade me, aru."

"Alright, when you succeed, I will have an award for you." Ivan kissed Yao softly on his mouth then disappeared into the shadows close to the buildings.

Yao touched his lips and smiled. Ivan hardly gave out kisses. It made Yao's stomach bubble and he felt weightless. He guessed that the feeling Ivan gave him helped him scale the building and plant himself across the librarian's window. Close enough to hear, and if the curtains were parted just slightly, he could tilt around on his perch and see everything going on in the room. He watched Arthur lead Alfred into the room. Yao smiled and watched Ivan's prey. He was eager for this to end quickly.

**USUKUSUK**

Arthur locked the door behind him and Alfred and yanked the American up the spiral staircase. "Do you want to see why those men were here or do you want to know what happened to me in the past?"

Alfred held onto Arthur's hand tightly. "The first one. I want that out of the way so I'm not worrying the whole time."

"Okay." Arthur went into his room and looked around. "Miss Rosa?"

The ghost came through the bookshelf. _"Oh, Arthur! Poor Ludwig saw them coming from your window and hid. He has been so scared. He says he knows that man. He kept mumbling something about his brother and lots of blood. He also tried to run outside, but I had Peter go near him. The water effect Peter carries seems to have helped him quite a bit. What is he doing here? You are not showing him are you? Arthur!"_

"Alfred knows who that man is, he can help better than just me. Alfred, poppet, will you check the window?" Arthur went to the bookshelf.

"For what?" Alfred stood in the middle of his room, unsure how to hold himself.

"Make sure it is closed and the the curtains are drawn. Where is James?"

Alfred strode to the window and saw that the glass pane was open. He closed it tightly and shut the curtains.

_"He was trying to make the big one feel like he was being crushed. It didn't seem to faze him, but the girly one looked sick." _Miss Rosa explained to Arthur.

Arthur shoved his bookcase away from the stairs. "This way, Alfred, and bring the picture.

"Okay." Alfred followed up the stairs, quietly enjoying the view behind Arthur even though he really shouldn't in the current situation.

"Ludwig. It's me." Arthur walked into the hidden room and looked around. "He's gone now. I brought you something."

Ludwig emerged from the room he had turned into his bedroom. His hand was hanging down at his side and Peter was holding it, sending calming waves of water over the man. "You are okay?"

"I am fine, Ludwig." Arthur rushed to Ludwig and helped him onto the couch. "Thank you, Peter. You did a good job."

Peter smiled. _"You brought him."_

"Yes, why don't you say hi?" Arthur turned to Alfred. "Stay calm. Peter wants to say hi. You'll feel water on your skin or your hair. Do not freak out or you'll feel like you're drowning."

"Who is this?" Ludwig stared at Alfred.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones. I'm a fighter pilot." Alfred looked around suddenly. "Artie! I feel it!" his blue eyes danced in wonder.

Arthur smiled gently. "Peter, fog up a mirror or something and talk to Alfred while I talk with Ludwig, okay?"

_"Okay." _Peter closed his eyes and made water drops appear on the floor, leading to a dusty mirror in the corner of the attic. Alfred followed while glancing back at Arthur.

"You brought him up here?" Ludwig whispered. He tried to look angry, but the death grip he had on Arthur's hand proved that he was still frightened.

"He knows who that man was. Do you know him?" Arthur asked.

Ludwig nodded. "While Gilbert and I were on the boat to get here, Ivan came aboard and searched the decks. Gilbert heard him coming and shoved me into a crate. He hid the crate the best he could. I watched him through a crack in the wood. Imagine, a twenty-three year old being shoved into a crate by his older brother of three years. I watched him scramble for a hiding spot far away from me. We heard thuds and shouts and screams from above us. I, a fully grown man, was hiding in a crate and almost crying out of fear. Gilbert somehow caught my eye and he grinned at me. Like he did when I was little and fell. He would grin and say, man up. But this time, he just pressed a finger to his lips and disappeared. All went silent, then he came downstairs. He had blood on his face and in his hair. On his clothes. The short man behind him just looked like a doll. He was detached from what Ivan was doing to other humans." Ludwig glared at his and Arthur's hands. "He started kicking stuff over and yelling in a different language. He got close to my crate," Arthur had never heard Ludwig speak of how he got to London, and Arthur was intrigued and frightened of what was going to be said, especially with Peter in the room, but he looked preoccupied with Alfred (they were taking turns drawing on the mirror and trying to guess what it was, Peter wrote down his guess so Alfred could play). "I pulled my eye from the hole and shrunk in on myself. I held my breath, waiting to be discovered and killed, but Gilbert threw himself out into the open. Ivan turned and smiled. He _smiled. _He picked up my brother by his hair and asked where any others were. Gilbert, the smart ass he is, said that they were at a camp. Then Ivan's friend said something about Gilbert being one of the Beilschmidt Boys."

Arthur stopped Ludwig. "I do not understand what a Beilschmidt boy is."

"Our grandpa tried to revolt against the government. They caught him and tortured him. His a..." Ludwig glanced at Alfred. "lover, came and saved him before they could do too much damage. Grandpa could never walk right again. After a while, Gilbert and I tried to sabotage the Nazi soldiers. We became known as he Beilschmit Boys and the two most wanted Jews."

Alfred had excused himself from Peter and sat beside Arthur's feet, he squeezed Arthur's knee gently. "Then what happened?"

Ludwig closed his eyes. Arthur hadn't seen him look so pale and frightened since he found Ludwig hiding in his library six months ago. "Once Ivan knew who my brother was, he shot Gilbert in the leg and slit his throat. It wasn't deep. It was meant to frighten me out of hiding. I should have gone out, but I knew Gilbert wouldn't want that. He would want me to escape and find him as soon as I could. It took all my will power to stay still. Little did I know, Gilbert brought his pet bird along. He had hidden it along the rafters, but it got out of his cage and attacked Ivan. He shot the yellow bird down and I saw Gilbert's eyes fill with tears. When we left home and Grandpa with his lover, he sniffled a couple times at the thought of leaving. We knew that the two old men would be safe. When his pet was shot, his eyes filled with tears. It made me imagine what he would do if I got hurt. That thought kept me hiding. Kept me safe even as Ivan dragged Gilbert away with his friend following closely. The last I saw of my brother was him swearing at Ivan in German and looking back at me through the crate." Ludwig leaned forward and put his face in his hands. "I just can't believe Ivan found me so soon."

Arthur stood. "I'll make some tea. That'll help. York! Come here!" The cat emerged from atop a shelf with the familiar sight of Boston behind him. Arthur patted the couch and the cats made themselves comfortable beside Ludwig. Arthur went downstairs with a promise of tea and scones.

Alfred looked at Ludwig and gasped. "Oh! Hey!" he pulled the photo Ivan gave him earlier out of his pocket and held it up. "This is you!"

Ludwig raised his head and took the picture. A smile ghosted over his lips. "This was taken right before we left. The guy next to me is Gilbert. The man with white hair and the one next to him is-"

"Roma right?" Alfred asked, remembering Feliciano's stories.

"How do you know?" Ludwig asked and looked at Alfred.

"I'm friends with his grandson, Feliciano." Alfred grinned. "That reminds me..."

"Feliciano..." Ludwig tilted his head. "Does he happen to be the one that wishes Arthur hid blonde men in his attic?"

Alfred laughed. "That sure is Feli! He acts like a child at times!"

"You have no room to talk, Alfred." Arthur set down a tray of three tea cups and a plate full of what looked like black discs.

Alfred rolled his eyes. "So, this is why Ivan the Menace was on your front porch?" he gestured to Ludwig.

"I couldn't turn him away, Alfred. Like how you kept your overweight cat."

"He ain't over weight! It's... holiday weight!" Alfred scooped up Boston, much to York's disapproval.

Arthur smiled and sat. "Okay, Alfred." he sipped his tea, and Arthur felt Alfred's eyes on him.

"Can I keep this, Alfred?" Ludwig asked.

"Can I show it to Feli first? He misses his grandpa." Alfred asked.

Ludwig hesitated, thought about it, then gave the photo to Alfred. "So, what are we going to do?"

"We need to move ya." Alfred picked up a disc and threw it sideways. Boston bolted off Alfred's lap to retrieve the black object.

"That is food, Alfred!" Arthur scolded.

"No it ain't. It's a cat toy."

"To where will you be moving me?" Ludwig interjected.

"I dunno." Alfred scratched Boston's ears, then grinned. "Or we can pretend to." Alfred grinned then told the two older men his plan. It wasn't elaborate or anything extreme. It could get them, and some other people killed, but if they did it right, they should be fine.

As Arthur helped Ludwig into his room for a much deserved nap, asking Miss Rosa and Peter to use their ghost effects to calm the Jewish man, Arthur mentally prepared to reveal himself to someone alive.

**USUKUSUK**

***past tense of squeeze. It's a real word!**

***Beta says: Some people say it is a word, some people say it isn't. I can't really tell because I only looked it up and got several contradicting responses, which means I have no idea. I'm leaving it in because I love you.**

**Author's note: I'm sorry I took forever! Please stay with me! I wanted USUK in here but then got the RoChu idea so minimal USUK next chapter, more RoChu, FranAda hopefully and maybe GerIta if things go slowly. So, I had an idea to do a little chapter from Boston's and York's point of view. Tell me what you think in the reviews. I won't have it do with the plot, it'll be more like a comedy relief after Ludwig's sad story and how Arthur remembered his life. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! I love reading them! Don't forget to tell me what you think about a kitty chapter! I won't do it if you don't tell me! :3 **


	11. Time to be a Hero!

**Chapter - 9 - Time to be a Hero!**

Alfred parked his truck in front of his base and leaned out the window. "Mattie! Feli! Let's go get some dinner!" he shouted.

Matthew and Feliciano stood from their spot on the grass surrounding the building and made their way to Alfred's truck. After Arthur had made Ludwig take a nap, they finished figuring out their plan. Alfred had left through Arthur's back door and found Matthew strolling the streets, with his hand in the Frenchman's from the night before. Alfred told Matthew to find Feliciano and meet him back at base. Then he went back to Arthur's library. Arthur was pacing the shelves and when Alfred returned, he surprised the Englishman by hugging him around his waist and nuzzling his neck. Arthur seemed to relax after that and he had read to Alfred from his favorite book while they gave Matthew enough time to find Feliciano. Alfred laughed that Arthur hid books he didn't want people to find in his chimney. That would make sense, Alfred saw a few books that didn't look appropriate for anyone to pick up.

Matthew opened the door. "Help Feliciano up." he ordered.

Feliciano held his hands out to Alfred, who laughed. "You are going to make some guy really happy one day, Feli!" and Alfred already had a guy in mind for the Italian. He grabbed Feliciano's hands and pulled him onto the bench seat in his truck. Matthew followed and closed the door.

"What is going on, Alfred?" he asked, folding his arms. He seemed upset that he had to leave the streets with the blonde man Alfred saw him with earlier.

"Arthur needs our help. I'm going to drop Matthew off at Arthur's real house-"

"I thought he lived at the library." Matthew tilted his head.

"I did too. So, you wait there, and I'll take Feliciano to his house, then I act like I forgot something by Arthur's place and-"

"Wait, why does Arthur need our help? And did you even find out if he's like us?" Matthew interrupted again.

"Or if he has blonde men in his attic." Feliciano seemed hooked on that.

Alfred sighed. "Yes to both of those. The man is a famous Jew and he has Ivan after him."

Feliciano gasped. "Ivan is _here_?" the little Italian knew Ivan personally. Feliciano's father was a weapon trafficker for the Italian resistance. On Feliciano's and his twin brother's twentieth birthday, their father was tortured and killed in front of them. They were sent to live with their grandfather, who lived in the country, far away from the city, after their mother died. Feliciano says that before that day Lovino was actually very nice and caring toward others. Alfred didn't try to say otherwise because Feliciano just became sad. Alfred didn't want to know the demons haunting Feliciano's mind either. Maybe when Arthur saw Feliciano, he would point out actual demons. That would be entertaining, and sad all at once.

"Yeah. It sucks. So I had this idea to move Ludwig, but it's actually Arthur." Alfred said quickly, pulling away from the base.

"Alfred, I do hope Arthur the librarian understands you as well as I do." Matthew sighed.

"I think he does, but he had to relay everything to Ludwig after he rolled his eyes at me and called me grit. Ya know, like ham and grits."

"Its _git_, Alfred. Why don't you start over? And try to explain it so Feliciano can understand."

Alfred heaved a great and overly dramatic sigh, "I'm sure Ivan has someone following me since I talked to him in front of Arthur's library. So, I'm going to take you to Arthur's house, and pretend that it's our father's vacation house." Alfred looked at Matthew briefly. "Then I'll say I dropped my dog tags at Arthur's library, Arthur had me plant them in the gutter by the library. Feliciano, I need your bodyguard and your brother to follow me in his car with you hiding in the seat so he knows where to go, have him park in front of the flower shop that's by the library. After I'm gone, wait five minutes then tell your brother to honk the horn three times in a row and Ludwig will come out and get in the back with Feli. You go back to your place and keep him hidden. I will park in front of the library and Arthur will come out in a cloak with his face covered. He will have some clothes on from Germany, noticeable ones, with the star thing on his sleeve so who ever is following can see it when he gets in my truck. It's not actually the star, but it'll just look like it so no one can accuse him of being Jewish. So, Feli, while you keep Ludwig safe, me and Mattie will be at Arthur's house with him waiting for Ivan and we'll take him down!"

"I don't think Antonio will agree to this, but I can get him to do it." Feliciano said softly.

"I think this'll help." Alfred gave Feliciano the photo of Ludwig and his family, along with Feliciano's grandpa.

The Italian's eyes swam with tears and he smiled. "That's Grandpa Roma and Grandma Germa."

"Ludwig said that that was his _grandpa_," Alfred said, looking for the right street.

"Yes. Grandma Germa is a man. When Lovi and I were little, his hair was long then too and we got confused and called him Grandma. He didn't seem to mind, Grandpa even called him Grandma so we didn't get confused." Feliciano looked at the picture again and gasped. "He is... _molto bello!_" he grinned, his tears vanishing when he saw Ludwig. "We're saving him?!" he asked ghosting his fingers over the image of Ludwig.

"That'll be the one." Alfred grinned. "Okay, Mattie. Wait here." he stopped the truck and handed Matthew a key.

"This is crazy, Al. We could all die. Ivan is strong." Matthew took the key.

"I know, but you should have seen Ludwig when Arthur went into his room. He looked... he looked like we did when the old woman died. The one who called us those weird names. Lost and scared and alone. Then he told us about his brother." Alfred pointed to the pale man beside Ludwig. "He watched Ivan take his brother and beat him while he hid. It reminded me that I would do anything to protect my own brother, but since you've gone and grown up on me, it's time to be a hero." Alfred smiled. "The three of us can be heroes today if you'll help me."

Feliciano nodded. "I'll help. Grandpa Roma would want me to."

Matthew sat still and silent, then he nodded too. "I'm in." he hopped out of the truck. "But after this, I get to be alone with Francis without you disturbing us." he smiled and held his hand out to Alfred, who grabbed his wrist and turned it around. They slapped the back of each other's hands and grinned.

"I'll be back soon, wait inside and don't open the door for anyone. Our number today is three." Alfred let go of Matthew's wrist.

"Alright, be careful." Matthew shut the door.

Alfred pulled away from the curb and followed Feliciano's instructions to his flat.

"Did you mention me?" Feliciano asked, gazing at the photo.

"Arthur did, Ludwig seemed excited to meet his grandfather's lover's kid. Well, actually, you personally. Know what I mean?"

"Yes. I do." Feliciano smiled and pointed to his flat. "Right there."

Alfred pulled over and smiled. "Remember what to do?"

"Yup." Feliciano slid from the truck. "I'll be right back." he ran inside and Alfred watched, hoping Arthur was ready to go. They were going to have Ludwig take their cats with him so they wouldn't be in the way while they fought with Ivan. Alfred slipped his hand into his pocket and griped his pistol. He had ten bullets. He gave Arthur a hand gun just in case, but hoped he wouldn't need it. Alfred wanted Arthur behind him and Matthew since they knew how to work the gun properly. Alfred sighed deeply and watched Feliciano's brother stomp to their car with the taller bodyguard following him. Feliciano slipped into the back seat and made his brother wave at Alfred.

"It's time to be a hero, Alfred. For Arthur." he turned up the radio he had docked in his truck, singing softly to his favorite station he always kept it on. When his newest favorite song came on, Cow Cow Boogie. It was about a cowboy and Alfred sang along loudly. Alfred laughed when the song ended. The old woman had lived on a farm with her late husband and Alfred had always loved taking care of the horses. He didn't remember much of that time since he was always half asleep while he was with the creatures. He did remember wanting to be a cowboy though. When the war ended, he was so going to buy a horse. And make Arthur ride it. He smiled at the image of Arthur holding onto his shoulders and looking up at him with his closed-lip smile as Alfred had his arms around the Englishman's waist while they rode on Alfred's imaginary horse. This crush was quickly becoming cowlick over heels in love with Arthur. They had a few weeks together before Alfred and Matthew got sent to Germany for a year. Alfred's smile turned sad at the thought of Arthur sitting at his house watching their cats that looked like them making love or cuddling. Sure he had his ghosts, but Arthur needed living human contact, Alfred could tell that Arthur was tense around him and awkward. That one hug was out of fear and relief. Alfred looked up at the slowly darkening sky. He saw a shooting star and made a wish. _'I wish Arthur Kirkland will fall in love with me before it's too late.'_

**USUKUSUK**

Arthur secured the cloak around his neck and drew the hood. "You will be going in the second car. The one that sounds three times." he told Ludwig for the tenth time.

"Yes, Arthur." Ludwig said, securing the strap around the basket the cats were in. The strap was Arthur's idea, he didn't want York or Boston to jump out of the basket and run away. Ludwig was wearing a cloak similar to Arthur's. They were waiting in the library area of Arthur's building.

_"Arthur! A shooting star!" _Peter shouted, pointing at the sky. He had been drawing shapes on the fog he gave off on the window, freaking Ludwig out in the process.

"Make a wish." Arthur replied.

"What?" Ludwig looked at Arthur.

"There is a shooting star." Arthur smiled. "Make a wish."

Peter and Ludwig dropped their heads and closed their eyes. Arthur paused before following suit. _'I wish Alfred and I will be able to be together after tonight.'_

Ludwig raised his head. Peter smiled and wrote on the window, Ludwig read it aloud. " 'What did you wish for?' "

"We can't tell you or it won't come true, Peter." Arthur said.

_"Oh, right. Miss Rosa and James will be back tonight, right Arthur?"_

"Yes, I just have them on the lookout for the bad guy."

_"Okay." _Peter continued to draw on the window.

Arthur pulled on is sleeve, looking at the mock Star of David. "Is this close to accurate, Ludwig?"

"Yes. There is a point missing though. From far away you won't be able to tell." Ludwig leaned against Arthur's desk.

A blue truck pulled up and Alfred jumped out, scanning the ground for his 'misplaced' dog tags. Arthur tugged his hood up and smiled and Ludwig. "I will see you on the morrow."

Ludwig offered the Englishman a tense smile. "Likewise."

Arthur opened the door and bolted past Alfred and into the truck. Alfred stood quickly and got in, he kept the engine on so he was able to speed their way down the block then turn and head back to Arthur's house.

"Put these on for me." Alfred held out a chain with two tags on them.

"O-okay." Arthur took the chain and slipped it easily over his head. "Is everything in place?"

"Yup. Feli got his brother and Antonio to come along. Mattie is waiting for us." Alfred smiled. "Are ya okay?"

"I am fine. Just a tad scared. I've never done this before."

Alfred laughed. "Me neither!"

Arthur smiled and let his hand rest between them. Alfred tilted his head, then grinned. "It's on again!" he reached for the radio Arthur hadn't notice and turned up the volume.

"What rubbish is this?" Arthur asked loudly.

"My station! I never change it! They always play my favorite song!"

"What is this song called?"

"Cow Cow Boogie!" Alfred grinned at Arthur and sang along far too badly.

Arthur laughed, feeling the anxiety leave him. If only a little.

They arrived at the house and hurried inside. Matthew hugged Alfred hard and Arthur felt a spike of jealously at how long Alfred held his brother. Arthur decided to give them space and took the cloak off. He went to his room to change. Arthur hadn't been to his house in a couple of weeks so the air was stuffy and it was hard to breathe. Arthur opened the door to his room and glanced around shortly. Something was off. He looked again. The window. It was open. Arthur felt his heart stop, then kick into full gear. "Alfred!" he turned and tried to run down the stairs, but someone grabbed his hair and hauled him back.

Hot breath hit his neck as a gruff voice whispered. "You are not the Jew."

Arthur wriggled, but the man just hitched up his hand and Arthur's hair with it. Arthur cried out and grabbed the man's hand.

Alfred stomped into the room, his gun out and aimed. "Let him go. He is not who you are looking for."

"Ah, but he knows who I am looking for and he knows where he is now."

Arthur whimpered against his will. The man held Arthur in front of his body, Alfred couldn't shoot without hitting Arthur. "You tricked my little bird, I shouldn't punish him. Instead, I'll punish your bird."

Alfred glared at something over Arthur's shoulder. Too afraid to glance over and see what it was, Arthur caught Alfred's eyes with his own and held them there. "Let go of him, Ivan. He is just like your bird. I am in charge of him and will shoot him to get to you. Then I'll need a new one." Alfred smirked, his light blue eyes darkening dangerously. "Yours looked rather nice."

Arthur felt this Ivan man huff against his hair. "Well, I can't have you taking him. He is mine, and mine only."

"That man you have is mine, and mine only." Alfred took a step into the room.

Ivan slipped his arm over Arthur's shoulder and he felt something cold press against his neck. A knife. "A-Alfred." he whispered, tears burning his eyes.

"It's okay, Artie. I won't let him get ya." Alfred extended his hand. "Just hand him over and we can be done. You don't want him."

"But I want the information he's hiding from me. Tell me where the Jewish man named Ludwig is." Ivan pressed the cold knife into Arthur's throat, and warm, thin line of red traveled from the knife.

Alfred stopped moving and lowered the gun slightly, his eyes never leaving Arthur's. "There is a boat that car took him too. It was shipping supplies to Germany. I lied to him so he would do what I said. The boat is due to depart in the morning. It is black and has a German name on it. Down by the harbor, you know, the really big one, Artie?"

"Y-yes. It's just south from here. You can't miss it." Arthur saw something out of the corner of his eyes and glanced at it. Nothing was there.

"Hmm. Are you lying?" Ivan asked in a child-like voice.

Alfred grinned. "Why would I lie to ya? I want those damn Jews out of here as much as you do. Waste of space if you ask me."

Ivan lowered the knife and Arthur took a shaky breath, not realizing he hadn't been breathing. "If I find out it was a lie, I will track you down."

"I didn't lie. If he ain't there then he must have figured it out and left." Alfred dropped his gun to he side. "Can I have my bitch back now?"

Ivan shoved Arthur across the room into Alfred's arms. "He is rather whiny."

Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur. "He can handle more than he looks." his grin was lewd and it made Arthur's spine crawl unpleasantly.

"I see." Ivan went to the window. He smiled at Arthur, his strange purple eyes gleaming. "Wish that we don't meet again." he slipped through the window just as Matthew burst from the closet.

"Al!" he hugged Alfred.

"Never call me your bitch again!" Arthur snapped, but clung to Alfred as well.

"Hey you two, it's okay." Alfred held them close to his body, sharing his warmth and scent. "I'm sorry, Artie. I had to convince him to let me have you back."

Arthur nodded and it stretched out his thin cut, making him whimper softly.

"He's bleeding, Al."

"I'll take care of him, you go back to Francis, and be careful." Alfred released Matthew. "Be back at base in time for dinner."

Matthew nodded and took off downstairs. When the door closed, Arthur allowed himself to cry softly.

"Artie?!" Alfred crushed Arthur against his chest.

"I-I thought this time, I was going to die." Arthur sobbed.

"Whaddya talkin' 'bout?"

Arthur took notice of how Alfred used his lazy American slang when he was in distress.

"I.." Arthur sniffed and looked up into Alfred's blue eyes. "I have something to show you."

**USUKUSUK**

**Author's note: I am SO bad at writing scenes like that. So there will be no more of that. I promised so much but gave so little. NEXT chapter I promise everything. I forgot to say that Feli, a couple chapters ago, told Alfie to stop in Italian. In this chapter he says very handsome. REVIEW REVIEWREVIEW! Please. And don't forget to tell me what you think about a Boston and York chapter. I would love to read what ya'll think. You have till the 17th to vote!**

***Beta says: The author is on vacation now, so expect a delay in updates. Also, reviews for this lovely story would be greatly appreciated, I'm sure.**


	12. Lives Changing

**Chapter - 10 - Lives Changing**

Arthur was sitting on the counter in his kitchen with his head tilted back. Alfred was in front of him, whispering. "It's alright, Artie. I almost got it all."

"Hurry up." Arthur winced as Alfred touched the sensitive part. "That hurt, you git!" his hands were shaking hard against Alfred's shoulders, the smell that was between them coming up to meet his nose. Arthur's eyes watered as he swallowed a scream and the urge to pull away from Alfred.

"I'm sorry! I just need to get the last bit and I'll move it, okay?"

"Okay." Arthur dug his fingers into Alfred's jacket. It didn't really hurt, more like a stinging and stretching feel, since his head was tilted back.

"All done!" Alfred smiled and wrapped the bandage around Arthur's neck. The wound wasn't deep, but it was still bleeding and if it got infected, that could be bad.

Arthur sighed and brought his head up right. "Finally." he smiled softly and rubbed his arms. The sun had gone down and it was chilly in the empty house. "The smell was making me sick."

The American looked confused for a moment, but instead of asking why blood made him sick, he asked, "What did you want to show me, Artie?" Alfred leaned on the counter beside Arthur's knees.

"You can't laugh or make fun." Arthur shifted his weight and continued to unbutton his shirt. Alfred had taken off his sweater vest. No blood had gotten on the rare green garment, but Arthur's dress shirt was ruined. Arthur breathed through his mouth at the sight of his blood on his shirt. It was so disgusting.

"If I wanted to do that I would have already." Alfred reached his hand out and Arthur allowed him to stroke his cheek.

Arthur shivered and let his shirt fall down to his wrists, he closed his eyes and looked away from Alfred, knowing what he would see. He would watch as Alfred took in the scars along his chest and stomach, his face turning from caring and worried to bored and over Arthur. It always happened when he told his mother or siblings. There were burn marks and cuts so deep that the scar tissue over it was puckered and pink, there were so many, it created a maze over his skin.

"Oh, Arthur." Alfred traced around a cluster of burns on Arthur's left side. "What are these?"

"I have known I was gay since I was little. I hadn't realized that it wasn't normal and openly talked about it. Some of the older kids found out and always picked on me. One time, I told my best friend that I thought one of the boys were cute. His friend heard us talking and told all of his other friends. They chased me around the school. I'm pretty sure I was crying, I knew I was calling for help because I remember all of their dads looking at me like I was getting what I deserved. The boys managed to get me to the ground and held me still. One of them had a pack of matches. He lit one after another and pressed them into my side. He counted how long I screamed before the match went out. I was fighting the best I could, but even then I was tiny and never played football or any other games with everyone else. I was struggling like a fish on land. It was useless. The burns on my stomach and sides are from that day." Arthur stole a glance at Alfred, who hadn't changed his concerned expression.

"I'm so sorry, Artie. I was picked on too, but never like this." Alfred cupped Arthur's trembling jaw.

"It is not your fault, dear brute." Arthur leaned into Alfred's hand, and enjoyed Alfred's rough fingers going into his hair. "I would tell my family, but they wouldn't care, so after a while, I took care of my own injuries. Though none of them approved of my choice of love, the didn't hate me. Sure they thought that the torture I was receiving was deserved, but my younger twin siblings always wanted me to draw them something. My older brother asked me about schooling as I got older and the kids at school pretended that I didn't exist. Mother let me hold the baby, not afraid that I would give him anything. It was Father who I never told. He was sure to take his belt and hit me, no matter what age I was. If I told him today, he would beat me. If I told him on his death bed, he would hit me. But I never got the chance." Arthur stopped talking, his throat felt too tight, the air was too cold on his bare skin, Alfred's hand felt too comforting for Arthur's story.

"It's alright, Artie. It's just me and you now." Alfred pressed a dry kiss to Arthur's temple.

Arthur let the blush and smile creep onto his face. "You and I."

Alfred just kissed Arthur's cheek. "Whatever, Artie, just finish."

"Alright, well, on my birthday, I was going to tell Father. I was going to walk in the house and say, 'Father, I must tell you something.'" Arthur opened his eyes and looked into Alfred's sky blues. "But as I was walking home, a bomb dropped. I don't remember what happened or being there, but my hate the color red began. I can't stand blood, the sight or the smell. Thunder storms terrify me, when I see something in the sky, I go into panic mode." Arthur lowered his eyes. "I scared you off that first night because I feel that if I let someone into my life, they'll die."

"Arthur-"

"And now I'm starting to really like you and it's scaring me so much because you are a damn fighter pilot and you are going to get hurt and it's because of me!" Arthur brought his knees to his chest and Alfred noticed that his hands had scars on them. Thin and thick lines and circular scars littered his delicate hands and fingers.

"Arthur." Alfred took Arthur into his arms and ran his hand down Arthur's back. Scars there too. All of them raised and bumpy. "I'm going to be fine, Artie. Don't worry."

"It is most certainly not fine because you are going to leave me as soon as I fall in love with you. You are going to leave and die." Arthur said the last sentence quietly, like if he said it to loud, Alfred would drop dead in his arms.

"What are you talking about, Artie?" Alfred tried to smooth Arthur's wild locks as he traced the scars on Arthur's back.

"E-every time... every time I get close to someone... something happens to them. I had so many friends when I was young and thought liking boys was okay. Then they all shunned me when I kissed a boy on a dare. The girls stayed with me for a while, but they told their parents and they told them to stay away from me. They were my best and only friends. The boys always hurt me, no matter what. I told my family, besides my father. They didn't love me as much as they did before. When I got the courage to tell my father, they all died." Arthur wrapped his legs one of Alfred's, anchoring the American to his half nude body. "I think York has survived so long because I keep him at my side. This is the first night since I found him that we've been apart. I'm sure Ludwig will die one day because of me. And now you're going to Germany and you're going to d-die too!" Alfred just gave Arthur a confused look. "I'm cursed you bloody twit!" The Englishman shouted.

Alfred looked at Arthur for a moment, then burst into a grin, hoping to ease Arthur's obviously frayed nerves. "Arthur, I don't think you can be cursed."

Arthur just glared at Alfred from underneath his blonde bangs.

"I mean," Alfred pinched Arthur's chin between his fingers and raised his head. Their noses bumped against each other and Alfred felt a shiver dance down his spine at their closeness. "You are just so.." Alfred struggled trying to find the right words. Not finding any, he said simply, "You see fairies, Arthur." The American pulled Arthur's bare chest to his, unfortunately, covered one. "What on earth would curse someone who could see fairies? It's just so cute and innocent!"

Arthur felt a smile tug at his lips, but pushed down the urge to reward the cheery American with a smile. "Seeing ghosts, fairies, and liking other men is innocent?"

"Well, to me it is." Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's bottom and picked up the Englishman. "You are the cutest thing I have ever seen!"

Arthur smiled and hooked his legs firmly around Alfred's hips. He didn't want to fall. "Promise me something."

"Anything." Alfred held Arthur closely to his warm body.

"Promise me that you'll come back to me. Safe and sound. I'm starting to like your idiotic ways." His eyes glimmered. "And you in general."

"I promise, Arthur." Alfred kissed Arthur's cheek and smiled.

Arthur was happily content for a moment, then realized that Alfred was touching his back. His hideous scars that glare at him in the mirror. He pushed Alfred away and moved back from the American.

"What's wrong, Artie?"

"You are touching them. I don't want you to look at them or touch them."

"Why not? I'm going to see wounds anyway, might as well see scars on someone I like, right?"

Arthur glared at the idiot. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, that I don't mind them." Alfred pulled Arthur close to him again.

"Yes, you do! You think I'm ugly and you want nothing to do with me because I have them... and... and.." Arthur clung to Alfred's strong arms.

"So what if you have scars? What's so great about normal skin that has no stories to tell?" Alfred rolled up his sleeve and Arthur saw indented marks on the crook of Alfred's elbow, some of them grotesquely brown. Arthur looked up at Alfred, shock in his eyes. "I was a drug addict. Now we're practically the same. We got caught in something terrible and it left its scars. But we have moved on. Look at us now. We survived the pain from the wounds. We're healed. Be proud that you have scars. It proves it's over."

That was possibly the wisest thing Alfred had ever said and Arthur felt his eyes sting with tears. Alfred was right. He had survived. Alone at first, then he got York, ghosts and fairies. Arthur should be proud that he is where he is today. And where he was at the moment felt pretty damn good and warm. "Thank you, Alfred."

Alfred only smiled and grabbed a lock of Arthur's hair, letting it slip through his fingers like silk. "How did your hair get so blonde?"

Even though Arthur was still scared out of his wits about the whole thing, he welcomed Alfred into changing the subject. "I don't know, actually. Everyone in my family had red or brown hair." he reached between their faces and grabbed his hair. "I didn't go outside much when the girls stopped playing with me. I stayed inside, drew, and read."

Alfred grinned broadly. "You can draw?! Show me!"

"Set me down then." Arthur smiled and kicked his legs.

"Oh." Alfred blushed and set the shorter man down. "Forgot I was holdin' ya."

"How do you forget you're holding someone?" Arthur rubbed his arms, goosebumps rising with the moon outside.

"Well, you're just so light! And I didn't notice we were the same height!" Alfred bent down to eye level with Arthur and grinned. "Now I'm your size, Artie!"

"You do not need to be a wanker, Alfred!" Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"Alright, alright. Now will ya show me how ya draw?" Alfred stood straight and noticed Arthur's gooseflesh.

"Yes, right in here." Arthur turned and went into the living room. He looked back and saw Alfred's jacket coming to him. "What...?" the heavy leather settled against his shoulder and he sighed at the warmth and smell of Alfred.

"You looked cold." Alfred smiled down at Arthur. "And your shirt is ruined so I thought..." He trailed off and blushed.

Arthur gazed at the blushing man, or rather, blushing boy. Alfred was nineteen, but he still looked young. Arthur could see fading acne on his face and his partially unbuttoned shirt showed off a smooth chest (check), revealing how young the confident American really was. Arthur smiled and slipped his arms in the sleeves, the hems hanging past his fingertips. "Thank you, Alfred." he tried to zip up the jacket but it got caught.

"Oh, hang on. I don't want it to pinch ya. It's kinda goofy." Alfred stepped close to Arthur and took the jacket zipper from his slender hands.

As Alfred struggled with the jacket, Arthur watched him. His brain was screaming at him to move away and go home, but his heart was cheering him on to stay with Alfred.

"There." Alfred smiled again, well, he never stopped smiling. It just seemed to get brighter each time he looked at Arthur. He pulled the zipper all the way up. The jacket hung low on Arthur so his collar bone and neck was showing quite a bit.

_'Leave now, go home. He was brought here to die.' _Arthur nodded his thanks. _'Kiss the man before it's too late! Who knows how long he has left? What if he _does _come back!?'_

"Come on! I can't wait!" Alfred turned and went into the living room, then sat on the couch in front of the coffee table.

Arthur followed, but went to the bookshelf. He grabbed some blank paper and a pencil then sat beside the giddy American. "Alfred?"

"Yeah?" he turned and faced Arthur. Alfred had been expecting striking green eyes, but was met with Arthur's lips. Alfred blinked in shock, then closed his eyes and set a hand on Arthur's cold cheek.

Arthur sighed through his nose and leaned into Alfred's touch. _'I'm kissing him.' _Arthur smiled to himself. _'And I'm not scared about him wanting to hurt me. Alfred is far to sweet for that.' _Arthur's mind was a numb, happy mess, but he did come to his senses when Alfred bit his lip.

Jumping back, Arthur gasped and stood, his face flaming red. "Bloody hell. Holy bloody amazing hell" Arthur paced in front of Alfred and wrung his hands together.

"What?" Alfred stood from the couch. "Arthur..."

Arthur covered his face to hide his grin. He had kissed this goofy American, and loved it! But this was his, what, third day of knowing Alfred? This is not the relationship he wanted.

He turned to Alfred. "Listen, I-"

"We don't have to move so fast, Arthur!" Alfred said quickly, and the Englishman waited for him to continue. Alfred smiled, the apples of his cheeks red. "But I really like you, Artie. So, will you... ya know... be my..." Alfred's ears turned pink at the tips. "Ya know... boyfriend?"

Arthur stopped pacing and stared at Alfred. _'A relationship with this man, it sounds wonderful. Falling in love with him, then what happens? Is he going to leave? I'm so scared.'_

"You don't have to be scared, Arthur." Alfred took Arthur's hands, grinning at Arthur's horrified look. Had he said that out loud? "I promise you, again, I'll come back. Safe and sound. I have only a couple weeks left before I have to go to Germany. So, what do ya say?"

Arthur breathed deeply, closed his eyes, chewed his lip. He reopened his eyes and looked up into Alfred's eager blues. "I say, we have a couple weeks."

Alfred grinned and pecked Arthur's cheek. "Nice and easy?"

Arthur felt his heart soar. Alfred understood that he wasn't used to people and even offered to take things slow. Alfred is so sweet and caring and thoughtful and...so many wonderful, wonderful things. "Nice and easy." he agreed.

**USUKUSUK**

After Ludwig saw Arthur and Alfred drive off, he rushed to the car that was parked in front of the flower shop across the street. He got in the back seat and was met with shining brown eyes, chocolate hair and a happy, if slightly nervous smile. "Are you Ludwig?" the voice was coated in sugar and had an Italian accent.

"Are you Feliciano?" Ludwig asked as his answer.

The Italian clapped his hands and smiled widely. "Wonderful! Lovino, honk the horn in five minutes!" he leaned into the front seat and grabbed another boy's shoulder. The light danced off Feliciano's hair and Ludwig saw a wild curl sticking out above his ear.

The boy in the front seat turned and looked at Ludwig. His face was as sweet as Feliciano's, but he had his twisted into a scowl. His hair was darker and his green eyes were full of mischief. "I know what to do, Feli. So this is the German? Bastard."

"Lovino! Be nice to Ludwig! I bet he's just as scared as you are!" Feliciano pushed his brother's shoulder.

"It is fine. I've been called worse." Ludwig managed a shaky smile and touched Feliciano's shoulder. The little Italian looked at the big German and sat against the seat. He was on he floor of the car so the seat reached his neck. _'He seems so young. Arthur couldn't mean this boy.' _Ludwig thought and settled himself beside Feliciano. "Is it okay if I let the cats out?"

"No." Lovino snapped and looked at his wrist watch.

Feliciano sighed and smiled at Ludwig. "Yes. Arthur told me about his cat. I know Boston, but I want to meet York!"

Ludwig smiled and pulled the heavy basket holding the cats in his lap and unbuckled the strap over Boston and York's backs. The big fluffy cat jumped out and into Feliciano's lap. He laughed and hugged Boston. "Long time no see _gattino_!" Feliciano stroked the cats ears and smiled fondly at the feline.

York was slower to get out, taking his time to meow grumpily at Ludwig before he jumped onto the seat beside Feliciano. "And you must be Arthur's kitty!" Feliciano reached behind him and let York sniff his hand.

"He's a grump so don't feel bad if he ignores you." Ludwig stretched his arm across the seat, practically around Feliciano's shoulders, and rubbed York's head.

"Aww... _brontolone gattino_!" Feliciano turned and grinned at York.

Ludwig smiled slightly at the boy. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying ki-"

"Antonio! Get your stupid bastard ass out here!" Lovino shouted from the window, making Feliciano startle and fall against Ludwig's shoulder.

"I'm coming, Lovi!" A Spanish accented voice came through the door of the flower shop.

Feliciano looked up at Ludwig, his tanned cheeks turned bright pink. "I'm sorry, Ludwig!" he squeaked then rounded on his twin. "Lovino! Stop shouting will you?!"

Ludwig was too shocked to speak, the little Italian was sitting in his lap. He was very light against Ludwig's legs, he was also soft. Very soft. Ludwig wanted to hold Feliciano. It had been so long since he'd had normal human contact. Arthur and Alfred are the only two he's spoken face to face to in months. And their conversations were about stuff they didn't have because of the war, or how they needed to keep Ludwig safe, and just mainly the war. But, Feliciano didn't say a thing about the war. He bickered with his brother and smiled and played with the cats. Feliciano was the first human contact Ludwig had that he enjoyed thoroughly. He had the urge to take Feliciano away and hide him so the war could never damage his spirit. He wanted to hold and kiss and love this Italian. But how could he? He looked no older than seventeen! Ludwig was turning twenty-four in a couple months, he couldn't be thinking about this kid! Feliciano looked up at Ludwig again and climbed off his lap. "I'm sorry, Ludwig." he said again. "Lovi scared me." he picked up Boston and settled into his spot on the floor.

Ludwig cleared his throat. "It's fine, Feliciano." he moved to the other side of the car and ducked his head when he saw a shadow coming.

"Took you long enough, bastard." Lovino grumbled.

"I had to make sure I got my special someone the right flowers!" Ludwig furrowed his brow. Why did that voice sound familiar? What was his name? Lovino shouted it... The car door slammed shut and a tan, curly dark haired man leaned across the front seat and set a bouquet of scented flowers in Lovino's lap. "I also got Feli a blue flower" he reached in the back seat and handed Feliciano a blue bell.

Ludwig studied the man's profile. Something in the back of his mind twitched. Where had he seen this man before?

Feliciano smiled brightly and grabbed the flower. "Thank you, Antonio! Ludwig, this is Tonio. He watches Lovi and I for our grandpa! That reminds me.." he reached into his pocket.

Ludwig smiled. Oh well. He was sure he could figure it out sooner or later. He wanted to see what Feliciano was getting. Lovino started up a fight in the front about Antonio buying him flowers and Ludwig tuned them out. Feliciano was just better to pay attention to. His hair looked soft enough to pet all night, his smile was always at the ready, his eyes glimmered constantly and his voice carried through the air like music. Ludwig was falling for this young Italian boy and he didn't even know his last name! He blamed being hidden in Arthur's attic for months on end.

"Here, Ludwig!" Feliciano held out the same picture Alfred had shown him. "That's my grandpa! I've met yours, he's really nice. We called him Grandma."

Ludwig laughed, the first time in a long time. How did this boy manage to make him laugh so easily? "Why did you call him Grandma?"

"When Lovi and I were little, his hair was long then too,"

"His hair had always been long." Ludwig set his elbow on the seat behind him and rested his head in his hand.

Feliciano nodded and blushed. He had forgotten Grandma was Ludwig's grandpa with Ludwig's face so close to his own, it was hard to concentrate. He tried to look away from Ludwig's clear, bright blue eyes, but only blushed more the longer he looked. "Well, we thought he was a girl and he was always on Grandpa's lap, so we called him Grandma."

Ludwig pointed to the man next to him in the picture. "My brother and I just called your grandfather Roma." his eyes turned a bit sad, Feliciano noticed. "Hey, did you have something to do with the braid in Grandfather's hair? He never took it out."

"He didn't!? Oh, that's so sweet! He promised he wouldn't and he didn't! Did you hear that, Lovi!?" Feliciano's eyes sparkled amber and he grabbed his twin's shoulder.

"That's nice." Lovino turned in the seat and looked at Ludwig, a tiny smile on his lips, then he glared. "You look like Grandma. Maybe you'll act like him towards Feli too."

Ludwig raised one of his blonde eyebrows. "Like a military captain?"

"What the hell are you talking about, bastard? He was never like that." Lovino glared at Ludwig.

"Yeah. Grandma played soccer and stuff with us." Feliciano tilted his head and Ludwig felt his stomach flip at how cute he looked.

Coughing in his hand, Ludwig explained, "He played with my brother and I too, but we had to do our chores and help with the dogs before we could. If we did it wrong, we would have to do it over then we weren't allowed to play."

Everything besides the dog part seemed to go straight through Felicano's head, for he gasped and said, "Dogs? You have puppies!?" he smiled brightly and Ludwig's stomach did two more flips and a twirl.

"Yeah. Chocolate lab and a German Shepard. I had to leave them with Grandfather when my brother and I left Germany."

Feliciano looked up at Ludwig sadly and opened his mouth to say something when Antonio stopped the car. "Alright. You two out and into the house quickly, don't forget the cats. Feliciano, take him to the kitchen and cover the windows, keep the cats inside."

"Okay, Tonio." Feliciano picked up Boston and moved to the door. "Ready, Ludwig?"

Ludwig grabbed York and nodded.

"Here we go!" Feliciano opened the door and rushed into the house. Ludwig followed quickly, forcing himself not to look at Feliciano's backside. Instead, he looked at the house. It was painted yellow at one point, but now it was faded and peeling. The roof had shingles missing. The house was short and Ludwig was pretty sure he would have to duck down to get through the door. There was a garbage can in the front that was overflowing with trash. The little Italian opened the front door and let Boston loose. "I'm sorry it's such a mess on the outside. I would paint it red, white and green, but then people would know we're not from here."

"I know the feeling." Ludwig followed Feliciano inside and looked around. The couch had blankets and pillows on it, and a spot on the floor beside the couch looked familiar.

There was a coffee table littered with paper and the walls were covered with pictures. Photos and paintings alike. Ludwig followed Feliciano into the kitchen. The air smelt like marinara sauce and garlic.

"It's a mess in here to huh?" Feliciano gave the room a look, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, we didn't have time to clean up and..." he let the sentence drop with a sigh.

"It's fine, Feliciano. I don't mind." Ludwig smiled and set down York, who dashed off to find Boston. "My brother was a pig so I don't mind a little mess."

Feliciano nodded. "We have some extra pasta from today. It might be cold, though."

"I'm not hungry." Ludwig said with a soft smile. Actually, he was too nervous to eat. What if Alfred's plan didn't work and now Braginski was watching him and Feliciano?

Antonio burst through the door with a blushing Lovino in his arms. "Alright! Now, I need Feliciano to take Ludwig to your room and keep him there."

Now that Ludwig could see Antonio, he understood why the name sounded familiar. "Antonio!" He blinked at the Spanish man.

"Ludwig! You've gotten big!" Antonio set Lovino down and hugged Ludwig, clapping his back. Over his shoulder, Ludwig saw Lovino look a bit jealous. "I'm glad you're safe, Ludwig."

"Yeah, I'm happy you got out too." Ludwig hugged his brother's friend tightly then let go.

"I thought you were just a random Jew! I wasn't sure if Ludwig was a popular name or not! Good thing I agreed! I'm glad its you!" Antonio grinned and slapped Ludwig's shoulder. "Sorry to send you upstairs to hide, _amigo_."

"It's quite alright, I'm used to hiding." Ludwig pointed to the Star of David sitting proudly on his chest.

"Yes, of course. No lights, Feli." Antonio dismissed them with a smile and a wink at Lovino.

"Okay! This way, Ludwig!" Feliciano grabbed Ludwig's hand and led him upstairs. "My room is very small. Lovino insisted I get the only room and that he and Antonio will sleep on the couch and floor." he smiled back at Ludwig and winked. "Lovi won't say it, but he loves Tonio."

Ludwig smiled at the boy. "When Antonio would visit, he would always say he had someone waiting for him at home."

"You know Tonio? Well, I guess you do since he hugged you and stuff, but how?"

"He and my brother were best friends. They also ran around with some strange Frenchman."

"Oh." Feliciano opened a door and ducked into his room. The room was small and it had a slanted ceiling. His bed was nestled against the wall on the low side against the wall and he had a trunk across the room. There was about five feet between the two objects. On the wall opposite the door was a small rectangular window. The wall and ceiling above the bed were drawn on with pencil. "I can get extra blankets and stuff in a minute."

"Alright." Ludwig crossed the room and looked at the pictures. The first thing he saw was pasta. There were also drawings of Feliciano and Lovino. Antonio was next to Lovino and Alfred was drawn goofily in the corner. Cats and dogs chased each other throughout the drawings.

"Aaah! Don't look at those!" Feliciano jumped in front of Ludwig and pushed at his chest.

"How come?"

Feliciano blushed and looked down at their feet. "They're not very good."

"They're cute." Ludwig smiled down at Feliciano.

Feliciano's face flamed and he dropped his hands. "I'm going to get blankets!" he squeaked and ran downstairs.

Ludwig slapped his forehead. "Damn. Now he thinks I'm a god damn creep." he sat on the bed heavily. "I need to stop acting like a teenager." he looked at the drawings. They were more like doodles, but they were cute.

The little Italian returned moments later with an armful of quilts, his face still red. "Here. I got the ones Grandma brought us from Germany to make you feel at home."

Ludwig smiled at his kind heart and stood. "Thank you." He grabbed the blankets and spread them on the floor beside Feliciano's bed.

"Do you want to play a game?" Feliciano sat on his bed.

"Huh?"

Felicano smiled and kicked his legs. "It's a question game! I ask you something, then it's your turn after you answer! You can pass only three times!"

"Alright." Ludwig sat beside the little Italian.

"Me first! Okay, who is your best friend?" Feliciano looked up at Ludwig, his smile never faltering and always there.

Ludwig was silent for a moment. Did Arthur count as a friend? Probably not. Gilbert had always been close to him. Antonio and Francis just bugged him. Other than that, he didn't really have any friends. "I guess my brother."

"Hmm.." Feliciano's smile softened. "Your turn."

"Why did you leave Italy?" Ludwig faced the little Italian.

"Grandpa wanted us to. He said it wasn't safe anymore. So he packed us up, got Tonio to watch over us and here we are! We're here until the war is over and Italy is safe."

"That's what happened to me and my brother. But, the idiot he is, he wasn't quiet about it and let everyone know we were Jewish." Feliciano noticed that Ludwig's eyes seemed to get a faraway look and his lips turned up in a small smile when he talked about his brother.

"What's your brother's name?" he asked softly, trying to resist the urge to grab Ludwig's hand.

"Gilbert."

"Where is he?"

Ludwig smiled the smallest smile Feliciano had ever seen, but it was also the most endearing. The German's eyes glimmered with sadness. "Isn't it my turn?"

"Oh!" Feliciano said, blushing. He nodded. "Yes, sorry."

"It's fine. How old are you, Feliciano?"

"Twenty-three."

Twenty-three. Ludwig felt his heart stop, then pound uncontrollably around in his chest and launch itself into his throat. So he could admire the Italian, even if he did look seventeen. All of his thoughts about Feliciano were no longer inappropriate, but thoughts that could turn into a relationship. "Oh. Well, your turn."

"What happened to your brother?"

As soon as Feliciano asked, he regretted it. Ludwig's face fell and his fingers curled into fists. "He... he was taken."

"Oh, Ludwig. I can't imagine how you feel." Feliciano wanted to comfort Ludwig but how could he without scaring the Jewish man off?

"I wouldn't want you to imagine it anyway. It's awful and heartbreaking to watch and feel. It hurts more than being drenched with ice water in the middle of winter in the early morning. The water freezes to your skin like a memory. The cold air gets inside your body and tears at your insides, and while you sleep, it goes to your mind and makes you relive what happened. It makes you sick. You should have helped him, but you were too scared. Even if he did tell you to stay put. But in your mind, you know that there is nothing you can do. You're trapped in a box and if you move, the ice will break and slit your skin until you are nothing more than a pile of blood and torn flesh begging for mercy on the ground-"

"Stop!" Feliciano stood, his eyes were bright and his chin was trembling. "You're scaring me!"

Ludwig just looked at Feliciano, his eyes dull and cold. His jaw was clenched and he was sitting stock still. Feliciano let out a shuddering breath and hugged Ludwig tight and close.

"It's okay, Ludwig. Your brother is safe. I know it. He will be looking for you once this is all over." Feliciano sat one of his knees next to Ludwig's thighs, he was practically sitting on the German's knee.

Ludwig felt Feliciano's warmth and gentleness through the fog in his mind. He let the little Italian lean into his broad chest and took the comfort his softness provided. "I'm sorry." he whispered and set a hand on Feliciano's back.

"It's okay, Ludwig." Feliciano took a step back and touched Ludwig's cheeks. "Now you look so pale and exhausted. I bet you haven't gotten a wink of sleep since leaving Germany. You can sleep in my bed." Feliciano pushed Ludwig into his pillows. When Ludwig's head hit the cushion, a burst of flowers, sugar and marinara sauce went into his nose and he relaxed. That's how Feliciano smelled, sweet and yummy.

"What about you?" Ludwig felt feliciano taking off his boots and blushed. He was being taken care of by this boy - well, he's twenty-three, so man, he just met.

"I can sleep on the floor. I don't mind." Feliciano smiled sweetly at Ludwig. Ludwig looked so cute with his hair ruffled and his eyes galzed. "_Buonanotte, _Ludwig."

The German managed a smile. "_Guten nacht_, Feliciano." This time, when Ludwig slept, he didn't have nightmares. He dreamt of a little Italian who smelled of flowers, sweets and pasta.

**USUKUSUK**

After Matthew left Alfred and Arthur, he went to the park Francis told him he would be waiting at. Matthew looked around the dim trees and benches, hoping Francis was still waiting. He stepped around a tree and saw Francis sitting on a bench looking bored. Matthew's heart sped up and he grinned. Francis would always be waiting for him. He ran over to the Frenchman. "Francis!"

Francis looked up and stood. "Matthieu. I've been waiting."

"I know, I'm so sorry. Alfred needed my help and it took a-" Matthew's foot got caught on a loose root and he fell forward onto the cobblestones.

"Matthieu!" Francis ran to Matthew and picked him up. "Oh, let me see. Come here." Fracnis guided Matthew to the bench he had been sitting on. Matthew leaned against Francis fully and limped along.

"I'm sure it's just a scrape." Matthew wrapped his arms around Francis's so he wouldn't fall.

"Let me see. Take your pants off."

Matthew blushed. "It's on my knee Francis! I can roll my pants up!"

Francis sighed and lowered Matthew onto the bench. "What if I just wanted your pants off?"

"Well, you'll have to wait until we're in private. And I'll need a more convincing way of you saying that besides telling me to 'drop 'em'." Matthew smiled softly and rolled up his trouser leg. He winced at the instant bruise covering his knee cap and the blood that was trickling down his leg.

"Oh, _mon cher_." Francis pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at Matthew's minor injury. Matthew, always the one to bruise like a peach that didn't like getting hurt, winced and jerked his leg back.

"Francis! That hurt!"

The Frenchman looked up. "It's just a scrape."

"Yeah, but it stings and I'm bleeding and it's bruised and it hurts really bad!" Matthew blinked his tears away.

"What's going to happen if you crash your plane? It's going to be a lot more than blood, bruises and hurting 'really bad'."

"That's different. I can fly better than I walk." Matthew allowed Francis to clean his injury again.

Francis was silent, then he stood suddenly and glared. "If you can't handle this, then how can you handle if your plane _does_ crash!?" He snapped and Matthew stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open.

After a few moments of Matthew's heart not beating, he inched away from Francis and looked away. "Is that why you've been keeping me so close? You don't think I can take care of myself?"

"I took care of you for years. Then you were taken from me. Alfred took care of you for almost ten years. Yes, I don't think you are ready for war. How on Earth will you manage if you get captured?" Francis sat beside Matthew and twisted his long, elegant fingers together. "I've always worried about you, Matthieu. All the time we were in the orphanage. Even when you had to leave, I wondered. 'Is he okay? Does he have Kumajiro? Is he happy? Does he think of me?' I didn't know what happened to you. I was so worried. I guess, I still am." Francis bowed his head. "I just got you back. I'm scared of losing you again, _mon cher_."

"Oh, Francis." Matthew took hold of his lover's hand and offered a soft smile. "I'm not leaving you ever again. I'll be careful, and I'll have Alfred with me."

"What if Alfred isn't enough? I would just as much rather have you on the ground instead of up there. I'd much rather have you here with me." Francis peered at Matthew from behind his curtain of blonde curls.

Matthew was silent. Was Francis asking him to give up flying so he could stay safe? But he was right. Alfred gave Matthew the majority of the food they could get, Alfred worked while Matthew went shopping and cooked at the old woman's house. Matthew had always been taken care of. But he loved flying. Could he give it up for his lover?

Francis didn't feel good about trying to keep Matthew from flying, but he didn't want to lose the boy again. He was too precious to Francis.

Finally, Matthew said, "Francis, what if I do give up flying? You would still be on damage control on the battlefield. I think your job is more dangerous."

"We go in when the dust settles so we have a clear view of things. No one has ever gotten hurt on damage control. And you can be part of my group. There is always room for one more. We can share a tent so you don't have to sleep beside disgusting pigs like you do now. Please, Matthew. I'll worry too much with you alone in the big open sky." Francis used the English pronunciation of Matthew's name. That meant the Frenchman was serious. "I want you with me for the rest of my life."

Matthew battled with himself. How could he leave Alfred alone with all of those disgusting men? Sure, he was strong, but not alone. Not without someone to be a hero to. But Alfred could ignore them and fight like a mad man when needed. Alfred would be okay without Matthew. But what about flying? That would make Matthew bored and irate since he would have nothing to do to get away from everyone. But if he was with Francis, then he could survive not flying for who knows how long. If he was with Francis, he could feel a different kind of love than what he does from Alfred. Going with Francis meant they could make up for lost time and lonely years. Matthew took a deep breath. "It's going to be hard, but I can leave Alfred and the other pilots." he smiled sweetly and squeezed Francis's hand. "I'll become apart of your crew."

Francis grinned and pulled Matthew into his lap. "Thank you, Matthieu. I feel so much better about you going with me. I can protect you easier and we can separate our tent a bit from the others." he wiggled his eyebrows and Matthew laughed.

"I know you'll be there for me if I need you." he nuzzled Francis's neck, giggling when his beard rubbed against his forehead.

"Hmm..." Francis clsoed his eyes and held Matthew closely. "Do you need me now?" his slender fingers trailed down Matthew's thigh.

"Take me to your rooms, clean me up and I'll pray about it." Matthew curled his fingers into Francis's shirt and kissed his jaw.

Francis stood, holding Matthew in his arms like a blushing bride,. "Let us make haste then, _mon cher_!"

Matthew laughed again and let Francis carry him back to his room in town, anticipating exploring Francis's life after they were separated, and his body.

**USUKUSUK**

Yao had been punished again. He was lying naked on Ivan's big bed. Red marks littered his torso, legs and arms. His hips, thighs, and ass were killing him. He still had the ropes secured around his wrists even though they were no longer tied tightly to the head board. He knew his hair was a mess by how harshly Ivan had thrust into him. The sheets were ripped from under the mattress. Ivan had left Yao like this. Yao closed his eyes. He knew why he was punished. He had been tricked and led Ivan to the librarian instead of the Jewish man. Ivan had come back to the boat with his eyes full of anger and his mind set on punishing Yao for misleading him. Yao's throat was raw from screaming and crying. He had told Ivan it was a mistake, that he didn't mean to misguide Ivan. But the Russian refused to stop until he was releasing his orgasm harshly into Yao. He had left after cutting the ropes from the bed and cleaning Yao and himself up. That had been over an hour ago. Yao was starting to get hungry and tired. But he couldn't leave. Ivan might come back while he was gone and punish him again. This time a lot worse. Besides, Yao didn't think he could stand. Let alone walk to the kitchens and get a hearty bowl of rice and some roasted duck. And he couldn't sleep. If Ivan came back and saw him sleeping after punishment, he would be furious. He liked to talk about what Yao had done wrong while cradling the Chinese man in his big arms. Yao had to stay on the bed or face Ivan and his rage again. So, he cried.

Yao didn't hate Ivan. He thought Ivan was misunderstood. He truly believed that if Ivan could take a petty thief like Yao off the streets and turn him into who he was today, Yao could tame the anger in Ivan and they could have a happy like without having to have rough sex or killing people.

He looked up at the ceiling. He rocked with the gentle waves of the boat. Ivan owned this boat. It was the fastest Russia could build. He kept prisoners on it. He kept a crew, cooks, and maids. He kept Yao on the boat.

Ivan then entered the room and closed the door, sliding the dead bolt in so no one could enter. Yao heard his boot buckles clink together then the soft thud of the heavy leather hitting the floor. Yao wiped his eyes, the cut rope scratching his chest. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain nailed itself into the small of his back and shot up his spine. He fell back, tears returning and turned his head to Ivan.

"I'm sorry I can't greet you, Ivan." and he truly was. He wanted to stand and have Ivan shed his tough persona and hold him like normal.

Ivan turned to Yao and gave a small smile, he took off his coat and scarf. "It is okay. I am sorry if I hurt you." he had a sheepish look in his eyes and Yao's heart fluttered.

"I am fine, aru. Will you take these ropes off and come here?"

Ivan nodded and cut the ropes from Yao's wrists and slid next to him on the silk sheets. "I couldn't find him."

"Is that bad, aru? You are here with me."

Yao felt Ivan smile against his forehead. "You're right. When you feel better, we both can look for him, kitten."

Kitten. Yao loved his pet name. "Okay, aru. I hope I will be better soon, it really doesn't feel good."

Ivan pulled back and looked at Yao harshly. "You deserved it for lying to me."

"Yes. I know. They tricked me though, aru. I would never make you look bad on purpose!" Yao felt the threat of tears. He had never cried in front of Ivan and planned not to.

"Well, at least you know." Ivan settled back against the pillows and pulled Yao to him.

Yao winced at the rough fabric on his sore skin but let Ivan hold him as if he were a teddy bear. "I am sorry, aru."

Ivan mumbled something that Yao couldn't decipher and fell asleep. Yao sighed, but felt relieved. He wouldn't have to explain how those idiotic westerners fooled him until morning. He moved into a more comfortable position within Ivan's embrace and reached for the covers. He liked Ivan best at night. When he acted like his other self. The sweet, childlike, caring one. Yao dared a peck on Ivan's smooth cheek and whispered. "Good night, Ivan. Sleep well, aru." Then Yao fell asleep with Ivan's warmth.

**USUKUSUK**

**Author's note: Holy bloody monkey balls. Extra long chapter for my absence... I had this all planned out though so I was thinking of you! I start school soon, so I can't promise my chapters will be frequent like the first ones. I'm sorry I was gone for so long! Just... gaah slow drivers. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this giant filler chapter. The next one is plotty. Yay! Special thanks for my Hannah fish ((my beta)) for correcting my grammer ;) hahaha. Please review so I know you all didn't give up on me! The chapter after next will be Boston and York!**

*Hannah fish/DaifukuBun/Beta says: She told me not to correct the word grammar and leave it grammer. I'm confused. Blap. Ehm, also, apparently there's smut next chapter so leave now if you're afraid of that dinky little M rating in the corner there. Cheers.


	13. Three Days

**Chapter 11 - Three Days**

The next few weeks for Alfred were amazing. He convinced Arthur to name his library Boston's and York's Books. He liked it because it was named after their cats and it was a letter away from BYOB, bring your own beer. He and Arthur had gotten closer as well. He taught Arthur how to drive his truck. He can almost see Peter if he looks hard enough. Feliciano and Matthew were extremely happy with themselves and Alfred was allowed to kiss Arthur whenever he wanted as long as no one saw. Alfred was floating on the clouds with Arthur in his arms and their cats at their sides. Then Alfred's commander came into their quarters. They were leaving for Germany in three days.

Later that same day, Alfred drove to Arthur's place with the radio off. Boston had all but moved in with York at the library, so Alfred felt quite lonely. He was happy Boston was staying somewhere safe. None of the other pilots had hurt him since they cut his side, and with Arthur's help, Boston was fully healed. Matthew had been staying with the Frenchman named Francis. That left Alfred alone with Arthur, but at times like this, when he needed to talk, he missed his brother's presence.

Alfred parked in front of the library and sat for a minute. How would he tell Arthur that he was leaving? They knew this would happen, but it was the thought of actually leaving Arthur and the cats. He felt like a father leaving his wife and kids. Alfred dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Poor Arthur. He's going to be all alone again. Sure, he would keep the cats after Alfred left, and his ghosts. Ludwig said he would staying at Feliciano's because of Antonio, but Alfred knew Feliciano was the main reason. Everyone Arthur had met in the last weeks, was leaving him. Arthur would be left with his ghosts, fairies, cats and the memories that would hurt like hell.

Arthur opened the glass door to the library and smiled his closed lip smile. It always made Alfred's heart leap and cheer with joy that he made that smile appear, but now, it made Alfred's heart lodge itself into his throat and break into a million pieces. He watched Boston bolt from between Arthur's legs and pace the truck door. He saw the ocean blue shimmer that was Peter in the window behind the blue and green that read 'Boston's and York's Books'. Alfred had attempted to paint Boston with the blue paint, but it ended up looking like a blob until Peter manipulated the pain to make it look like it was supposed to. Ever the artist, Arthur painted York beside Alfred's helped out one. Arthur smiled fondly at Boston and York sat beside his master. Alfred swallowed his tears and opened the door to his truck.

"Afternoon, Arthur." he put on the best smile he could manage and scooped up Boston, who meowed in greeting.

"Good afternoon, Poppet." Arthur walked back inside and pulled the navy blue curtains in his front window closed. "Why are you late? I had breakfast ready." Alfred could see the pout Arthur was trying to hide.

_"Indeed! He wakes up at the crack of dawn and washes and gets dressed in something you like! Then he slaves over the oven to cook you a meal and you don't even show up! He was so sad and had to throw it all away! You're lucky he even got out of bed to greet you!" _Miss Rosa snapped as soon as Alfred closed the door.

Recognizing Miss Rosa's wind, he could faintly hear the soft young voice, but couldn't make out words, and the scent of roses and gun powder whenever Miss Rosa was around. Alfred set down Boston and held his hands up. "I'm sorry, Miss Rosa. Sorry, Artie. My commander held us up." Alfred slipped his arms around Arthur's waist and pulled his back against his leather clad chest.

"I thought something awful happened." Arthur murmured and closed his eyes, leaning fully against Alfred.

The American didn't agree or deny what Arthur said. Though something awful did happen. And he had to tell Arthur. Now. So they could spend the next three days together.

"Arthur, I need to-"

The Englishman turned and snapped over Alfred's shoulder. "Do shut up, James! If you don't like it, leave! No one is keeping you here! I won't lose any sleep if you leave!" Arthur glared hotly then grabbed Alfred's hand. "Let's go upstairs. Miss Rosa? Will you stay with Peter?"

Alfred noticed Peter's blue shimmer turned a little gray and he smiled. "We can play later, Peter." he then followed Arthur up the spiral staircase to his room.

Arthur closed the curtains and perched himself on his bed. "You were saying?"

"Right, well, you see. Uhm." Alfred sat beside Arthur and pulled him into his lap. Arthur smiled and tucked his head under Alfred's jaw. He was no longer embarrassed by the American and now yearned for the soft, cautious touches.

"Go on, Poppet." Arthur found Alfred's hand and held it in his lap.

"Arthur. I'm so sorry. I... I'm leaving in three days for Germany. The commander said it'll be about six months to a year." Alfred closed his eyes and squeezed them tightly, fighting back the tears.

Arthur looked up sharply and dug his fingers into Alfred's jacket. "Al... Alfred.."

He opened is eyes and found Arthur's brilliant emerald ones glistening with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry, Arthur."

"When did you find out?" Arthur whispered, his heart falling out of his chest and into his stomach.

"This morning. That's why I wasn't here for breakfast." Alfred tried on a smile, but it felt plastic and it hurt his cheeks. "I can still smell it though. I'm sorry I missed out." It smelt of burning bread, tea, and a hint of maple.

Suddenly, Arthur shouted. "A year!" he wiped his face. When had his cheeks gotten wet?

"Or six months." Alfred held Arthur close to his body. "I hate to go, Artie. I really do."

Arthur tucked his knees to his chest and curled into Alfred's open jacket. "Don't go. You can't"

"I have to or they'll kill me for treason." Alfred let his own tears slip out. They splashed on Arthur's golden head.

Arthur shook his head, feeling the warm tears on his scalp, and clung to Alfred. _'This can't be happening. I knew this would happen, though. I was even going to tell him today. I was going to kiss him and then say-'_

"I love you."

Arthur looked up. Alfred had finished his thought. He managed a teary smile. "I love you, too." then he reached up and kissed the American.

Over the time they spent together, Arthur hadn't seen Alfred shirtless. Or pantless. The list didn't matter to him anymore. He just wanted to see if his dream guy existed. He was just curious. If Alfred wasn't everything he wanted, to hell with the list.

Arthur's heart leapt as Alfred pushed him against the bed. He blushed fiercly and worked at Alfred's clothes. Alfred left open mouthed kisses down Arthur's neck and tried to loosen the Engishman's tie. After a minute of losing the fight, he sat up, stradling Arthur and glaring at his neck. "Get the stupid thing off."

Laughing softly, Arthur untied his necktie and let it slip to the floor. Alfred tugged off Arthur's green vest and went back to sucking on his neck. Arthur closed his eyes and lifted his hips. "Alfred..." he whispered.

The American looked up at Arthur, his amazing blue eyes dark with lust. "Yeah?"

"This isn't because I'm saying goodbye." Arthur held Alfred's face in is hands, running his fingers through Alfred's golden hair. "This is because I love you."

Alfred grinned and shrugged out of his jacket. "I love you to, Artie." he laughed and his cheeks had a pink dusting. "This is I Love You Sex. Not Goodbye Sex" Arthur laughed softly and Alfred felt his heart swell. He slipped his shirt over his head. "Hey, you've done this before right?"

Arthur ran his hands down Alfred's back, tracing the strong muscles under his skin. He paused. How could he tell Alfred the he still was a virgin? He was twenty for gods sake. He swallowed and pinched Alfred's side. He smiled softly. His belly was toned but he was perfect to pinch (check). Alfred looked down at Arthur's hand and chuckled.

"Gonna answer me, Artie?"

"N-no. I haven't." He blushed, ears turning pink. "Have you?" He placed a hand on Alfred's warm, tan chest, admiring the view.

"Well," Alfred hesitated. How could he tell Arthur that he was practically a whore when he was sixteen and seventeen? If he told him they weren't acts of love, maybe that will help. He cleared his throat. "I wasn't in love then."

Arthur was disappointed that he couldn't be Alfred's first. But this was his first time while he was in love. Arthur would take that anyday. He smiled and kissed Alfred's jaw. "Then you...er...top."

"I was planning on it." Alfred ground their hips together, he was tired of talking.

The friction shut Arthur up and he moaned softly, Alfred ripped open Arthur's white shirt and kissed odwn his pale chest before he latched on to his nipple. Arthur yelped rather adorably then moaned again, this time louder. The American flicked his toung out over the taunt bead then travled lower. He started workin gon Arthur's trouser button. "Do you have any lotion or something?"

Arthur was already breathing heavily. He pushed himself up on his elbows and nodded. "In the washroom...t-top drawer."

Alfred kissed Arthur quickly and stood. "Don't move." He grinned then turned to follow Arthur's directions.

While Alfred was gone, Arthur stripped his trousers and undergarments. He was excited, if his hard-on was any indication, and nervous. Alfred was going to enter him..._down there_. From watching Boston and York, Arthur assumed it felt good, but it still sounded painful.

Alfred returned and his eyes sparkled at Arthur's nude state. "Okay, we'll do this nice and easy."

Arthur smiled at the statement, remembering they had promised that on their first night as a couple. But he raised his eyebrows. "The whole time?"

Alfred laughed. "At first. Lay back on the pillows. Kinda sit up." he got rid of the rest of his remaining clothing as Arthur did what he was told, a first time for everything. Alfred settled in front of Arthur's legs to find them pressed tightly together. "You have to spread your legs, Arthur." he said softly, paitently.

"I-I know." Arthur took a deep breath and spread his knees. He felt Alfred's hot gaze on him and he looked down and away. "N-now what?"

Alfred yanked his eyes from Arthur's member. It was smaller than his own, but still a bit impressive. He cleared his throat. "Relax." he squeezed the loation on his three middle fingers. Arthur nodded and let go of his death grip on the sheets. Alfred smiled. "Scented?"

"I thought it smelt good." Arthur glared then noticed his lotion covered fingers. "Th-three?" he squeaked.

"One at a time, don't worry." Alfred lifted Arthur's legs onto his shoulders and smiled. "Hopefully James doesn't eavesdrop."

Arthur laughed shortly. "I'm more worried about Peter. Now hurry."

Alfred nodded and rubbed at Arthur's enterance, spreading the lotion around the puckered hole. Arthur watched Alfred with his cheeks brgith red. He wanted to watch his lover make love to him. No matter how awkward.

"Here we go." Alfred pushed his index finger into Arthur slowly. Arthur gasped and sat up. "Arthur! Don't-" Alfred's hand got stuck under Arthur's bottom and his finger went all the way in all too fast for a virgin. Arthur arched his back and tears pricked his eyes.

"Ah...Alfred..." he closed his eyes for a moment the reopened them. "Is it in?"

Alfred smiled soflty. "That's my finger."

Arthur blushed and moaned. "I thought it felt a little small."

Alfred laughed. "Well, I'll take that like a compliment. Now, lay back down so I can finish."

"Okay." Arthur eased himself back onto the pillows and hooked his leg around Alfred's neck and turned his eyes to Alfred's handsome face.

Smiling, Alfred pushed his second finger into Arthur and slowly stretched his fingers into a _v _shape. Arthur winced at the burning sensation, but after a moment, found it rather pleasent.

"Hey, Artie?"

Why must he talk at a moment like this? "Hmm..?" Arthur hummed, slightly annoyed.

"Lift your hips."

Arthur gave Alfred a strange look then raised his bottom off the bed. Alfred's fingers went deeper into Alfred and hit a bundle of nerves. "Alfred!" he moaned and raised his hands by his head. "Do that again!" he begged.

Alfred grinned and pushed his fingers into Arthur just righ to hit his prostate repeatedly, turning Arthur into a numb, happy, moaning mess. Alfrd pushed his third finger in and Arthur closed his eyes. "Bloody hell, Afred!" Arthur groaned and looked at his lover through half lidded eyes.

The American kissed down Arthur's stomach and dipped his tounge into his belly button. "Al...Alfred."

He looked up and smiled. "I want it in."

"Alright." Alfred was more than happy to comply ((is that the word?)). He kept his fingers in Arthur so he wouldn't be too tight and reached for the lotion.

"Wait." ARthur wriggled and Alfred removed his hand, causing Arthur to wince at the sudden cold air. "I want to."

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "You want to do what?"

Athur just smiled and grabbed the lotion from Alfred. He spread the sweet smellin gstuff around his hand and cupped Alfred's erection. Alfred noticed that the English man was shaking slightly. This really was his first time. Alfred would have to make it special. He was the hero after all.

He watched Arthur as he began to stroke him. Alfred closed his eyes half way and sat back on his heels. For his first time giving a hand job, Artur seemed to know what to do. He stroked and rubbed in all the right places. He didn't pull or fondle with Alfred's balls like other people he had slept with. Arthur seemed to be exploring and mentaly preparing himself.

Arthur was throughly impressed by how large Alfred was. As he worked on Alfred's member, he thought of his list again. Alfred had checked everything off. This crazy, wonderful, loud, devesatingly ((lol i couldnt spell it)) handsome American was his soul mate. Were the gods trying to punish him some more? He glanced up at Alfred and saw his dark, glazed over eyes boring into his own. Arthur smiled. No. The gods sent him so Arthur would live his life and find love. Arthur reached up and kissed Alfred tenderly. He pulled back and continued to pull his hand.

When Arthur had gotten lotion on every inch of Alfred's cock, he laid back and spread his legs, bright blush creeping up his neck. "I'm ready." he whispered.

Alfred kissed Arthur with bruising force. He wanted to distract Arthur while he pushed himself in so the smaller man wouldn't be so tense. Alfred bit on Arthur's lip as he pressed the head against Arthur's hole. Arthur groaned and clutched Alfred's neck and hair. He accepted Alfred's tongue and shivered at his familiar yet different taste. Familiar because they had snogged before, and it got pretty hot then, different because Alfred seemed more desperate.

Arthur pulled back from Alfred to moan. He risked a glance down and saw that Alfred was balls deep. When did that happen? He felt full and fuzzy and his arse felt a bit more stretched than with Alfred's fingers. He looked up at his American and smiled. "This feels a...a tad different." ARthur shifted a bit and Alfred moved with him, sending a spike of pleasure up his spine. He moaned loudly and wrapped his legs around Alfred. "Oh, move you bloody git!"

Alfred held Arthur's hips and moved slowly, allowing Arthur to get used to the feeling. What he really wanted to do was pound into Arthur with everthing he had until Arthur was a puddle of goo in his arms, but he restrained himself. A first time should be special. Alfred's wasn't so he was determined to make Arthur's freaking amazing. Alfred reached down between them and began to rub at Arthur's dick head, getting pre cum on his fingertips. Athur moaned more and arched his back. ((killian walked in as i was writing this part))

"St-stop teasing, Alfred." He scolded. Arthur didn't want to be messed with, and what Alfred was doing was most definatly teasing.

Chuckling softly Alfred got on his kees and held Arthur's legs. Arthur watching him, his breath coming quickly, touched himself for Alfred's entertainment. He'll show him how much teasing sucks.

Alfred followed Arthur's hand as it trailed down his own body. He grinned. Arthur was just so damn cute sometimes. He pulled back, almost all the way out of Arthur, the purple red head barely haninging on. Arthur started to glare, then Alfred pushed forward hard, hitting Arthur's sweet spot and fllling the Englishman up quickly and wonderfully. Arthur threw his head back with a cry of Alfred's name. Alfred continued to suprise Arthur with sudden thrusts and tender kisses on his legs. He even left red marks on Arthur's pale body.

Arthur felt like his legs were jelly. The way Alfred was pounding into him was not gentle a all, but delcious and full of need. His head was foggy and he kissed, licked and bit every inch of skin near his mouth. He yelped in suprise when he found himself looking down at Alfred, his hands spread across Alfred's tan, smooth chest. He smiled and settled down, he felt Alfred's penis still hard in him when he sat and hi that spot again, making him moan loudly and tilt his head back.

"Hurry, Arie." Alfred felt on the edge of bursting, he needed Arhur to finish him off, and quick.

Arthur smiled shyly and nodded. He pushed himself up and fell back down on Alfred. "Oh, bloody fucking amazing Alfred!" he closed his eyes then and repeated the move, his own erection rubbing against Alfred's abdomen. He moved quicker, his fingers digging into Alfred's chest, leaving imprints from his nails.

Alfred moaned Arthur's name a couple times, then came inside Arthur hard. Some of the sticky substance oozing out from Arthur and down onto the sheets. Gasping, Arthur spread his own seed on Alfred's torso. His sweaty bangs hung in his face and his hands shook. As Alfred softened underneath him, he slid off and shivered at the loss of warmth. He tried to stand but his hips and thighs sent him tumbling to the floor. Alfred stood quickly and picked up the exhausted Englishman.

"It'll hurt for a bit, Arthur. I should have warned you." He set Arthur on the bed and smiled.

"It is quite alright." He smiled and reached into his nightstand for tissues. "Just lay back down." Alfred layed on his back with his hands behind his head, his eyes bright and his smile brighter. Arthur's smile was fond as he wiped Alfred's chest and his other parts, his face pink and his limbs covered in love bites.

Alfred grinned at Arthur's sudden tenderness. He grabbed some tissues and helped Arthur clean themselves up.

When they were finighsed, Arthur looked down at the soiled sheets. "I don't think I'm ever going to get those stains out."

Alfred laughed and pulled Arthur to his chest. "Keep 'em. They can be our sex sheets."

Arthur blushed and set his arm across Alfred's stomach, tugging him closer. He liked the idea of something to use in the future. His future. With Alfred. He looked up and smiled at the American. His American. "I'll keep them close by."

Smiling softly, Alfred tangled his legs with Arthur's and pulled the blanket around them. "Good."

Arthur closed his eyes at Alfred's warmth, then he thought of something Alfred should know. "You pass, by the way."

"Pass what?"

"My list." Arthur took his head from Alfred's shoulder and smiled slyly. "Didn't I tell you about it?"

Alfred rubbed his chin. "I remember. Mind telling me about it?"

Arthur blushed and giggled. This was going to sound awful, but Arthur was sure Alfred didn't care. "Well, you have quite a nice ass." He set his head back onto Alfred's chest. "Your legs aren't disgustingly hairy," he lifted his leg a bit and ended up pulling Alfred closer. "Your chest is wonderfully smooth." He kissed said chest and sucked on the spot until he was sure a mark was left. "Your strong in your shoulders, arms and...everywhere. Belive it or not, I like to dance and since I don't know how to lead, I'd like to have something to hold onto. You are just chubby enough to pinch." Arthur grinned and demostrated, making Alfred jump and laugh. "Your muscles are nice to watch move. I have always been a sucker for blue eyes. But not too dark or you'll look like one of the demons that haunts the dock. Your nose pokes up most adorably at the end," Arthur pushed himself up and kissed Alfred's nose and ran his fingers through his soft, blonde hair. "perfect for kissing. I love your lips, nice and soft." he kissed Alfred's sightly parted lips and licked the bottom one before pulling back. "Straight teeth. Snogging with crooked teeth would be a pain. A nice jaw and chin." he ran his fingers lightly over Alfred's cheeks, eyes, forehead, nose, chin, ears. "And a smooth and always happy face." When he finished, he buried his face into Alfred's neck.

Alfred lauged and held the Englishman close. "Sounds like you've been dreaming about me for more than a while!" He moved Arthur's face up and smiled gingerly at him. "I've never been like this with anyone. You make me feel important and loved." His smile turned loving and he kissed Arthur's forehead. "I think we might be soul mates. We'll always be together."

"Yes." Arthur's heart was probably with the stars right about now. He settled against Alfred's chest, his back, hips, and thighs tingling pleasntly. After sometime, the door creaked open and Boston lead York to their masters' sides. Arthur pet one of them absentmindedly. He and Alfred had three days. They could spend it together just like this. He closed his eyes and whispered. "I love you, Alfred."

He heard the smile in Alfred's voice. "I love you too, Arthur." Alfred smiled and ran his fingers through Arthur's hair. The Englishman snuggled close to Alfred and let his body float beside his lover. Alfred kissed his cheek and Arthur was asleep in seconds.

A few hours later, Alfred awoke to a cold bed. He frowned. Had it been a dream? No. It was too amazing to have been a dream. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. WArm hands slipped aroun his torso and he smiled. He knew it.

"Good evening." Arthur purred in his ear. Arthur turned and sat in Alfred's lap, his green eyes shining and a small grin on his face. Alfred laughed and hugged him, fingering the frilly pink apron Arthur was wearing.

"It's morning, Artie!" he kissed Arthur's cheek.

"We slept the day away. I got up a few hours ago. I washed youe clothes, honestly, Alfred. Personal hygiene will get you a long way. I bathed and cooked dinner."

"Why didn't you wash the sheets?"

"I couldn't get them off with your fat snoring ass sprawled across them." Arthur kissed Alfred, softening the insult.

"Souds like you're going to make a good wife." Alfed stood. "Well, I'm going to bathe too." He tossed the sheet that was covering him back on th bed and felt Arthur's eyes on him. Alfred grinned and did a little dance. ((make a little love. get down tonight. lol this is where my thoughts go while i type hannah dear))

Arthur blushed and threw a pillow at his silly lover. "Sod off!" He turned on his heel and went into the kitchen. "Hurry up or I'm giving you the cat food!"

Alfred laughed and walked into the bathroom. Arthur had folded his clothes neatly on the sink and he smiled. Arthur would make a good wife.

He came from the washroom to find Arthur setting the table. He saw a pile of black and brown in the middle and grimanced. So, he might not be the _perfect _wife. Arthur wasn't the best cook, but he thought he was. Alfred ate his...food(?)...just to please him but he felt hungary afterwards. He sat at the table and glared at the 'meal' in front of him.

"Is something wrong?" Arthur sat and York jumped into his lap.

"What if I wanted to cook for you?" That way he could toss this stuff and make Arthur something fatty and yummy. The poor man really did need meat on his bones.

"Well..." Arthur paused and looked beside him. Alfred smelt roses and sea water. He smiled.

"What do Miss Rosa and Peter think?"

"Shh." Arthur tilted his head, then stood after a moment, sending York tumbling off his lap and on the floor. "What do you mean he doesn not like my cooking!?"

Alfred was silent. Miss Rosa could be too blunt at times.

"He eats it!" Arthur paused then looked at Alfred. "Do you only eat my cooking to make me feel better?"

"Ah. Uhm." Alfred coughed in his hand and shifted in his seat. "I eat it because you made it."

"Do you like it?" Arthur placed his hands on the table and leaned close to Alfred's face, and not in the good way, his green eyes challenging.

"It could...uh...be...improved." Alfred offered a shaky smile. "Some people just can't cook, Artie. I can't draw like you do, so its okay.

Arthur growled in his throat. He didn't need Alfred insulting him before he left. He wanted their last days together to be happy and content with each other. Not having Alfred criticize something he tried his best at. He washes the man's clothes, compliments him, lets him kiss and hold him. Sure sometimes they bickered, but Arthur had never told Alfred that he sucked at driving his truck because he was convinced that he was _supposed _to be on the right hand side of the road, or told him that he didn't know how to drive his airplane correctly. Being put-down by Alfred and Miss Rosa like that, doubled with the worry that Alfred might die in the next year, pushed Arthur to exploding. He grabbed the dinner he made. "Fine! You can cook!" he threw the plate at the garbage can. Not in, at. The plae shatered and sent ceramic scattering acros the floor. Arthur stood still, besides his rapidly falling chest.

Alfred stood, sensing something else was wrong. Arthur didn't just throw stuff like that. He looked around and saw Peter's soft blue shimmer. He gestured with Arthur with his eyes and Peter floated to the window beside Alfred. Condensation formed on the widnow and he wrote:  
_While you slept, he held your jacket an cried for an hour. He told Miss Rosa that you were leaving. He's just sad and scared and doesn't want to seem weak in front of you._

Alfred read the note quickly then went to Arthur. "Hey, don't do that. Come here." he wrapped hia arms around Arthur and felt him shaking. "Its okay, Arthur. I like your food."

Arthur settled into Alfred's embrace and clung to his arms. "Its not the food, Alfred."

"I know." Alfred held Arthur as he cried. Alfred couldn't believe that this stuffy librarian could hold so much anger and sadness in his tiny body. When he showed those emotions, it was almost frightening and Alfred didn't know what to do. He looked around the room and saw a cup of tea cooling on the counter. Boston and York were by a bowl on the ground, Boston probably getting most of the meal. Alfred nodded to himself and picked up Arthur. The Englishman didn't resist and set his head on Alfred's shoulder.

Alfred smiled and kissed his pale and damp cheek. "Boston. Come." Alfred picked up the tea cup and went back to Arthur's room. He grabbed the book Arthur had on the nightstand and sat in the soft leather chair in the corner. He held Arthur in his lap and handed him the tea cup. "Don't let Boston hit you." Sure enough, the fluffy cat jumped onto Arthur's lap ungracefully, shaking the cup in Arthur's hands. York got up on their laps a little more gentleman like and settled into Boston's side.

Arthur gave Alfred a strange look thorugh his tears and sniffed. "What are you doing?"

"I want you to read to me." Alfred gestured for Arthur to take a drink then took the cup and handed him the book.

"But its in the middle of the series and I'm almost finished." Arthur leaned the book against Bostons unoccupied side.

"I don't care. I want to hear you read."

"But what about dinner and the mess I made?"

"I'll worry about that after a chapter." Alfred smiled and opened the book.

Arthur shook his head but smiled softly. "Okay." he read until the tea was cold and his eyes were heavy, his head nodding. Alfred closed the book and held Arthur until he slept peacefully.

"I'm sorry, Arthur." Alfred tucked some of Arthur's hair behind his ears. "I don't want to go either." He stood and set Arthur back in the chair. With help from Peter, he found te closet with fresh sheets and changed the bedding. He stripped Arthur and put his own shirt on him. Alfred smiled at how cute Arthur looked in his shirt that was too big for him. Like a worn out kid and not a grumpy old guy. He tucked Arthur into bed and cleaned up the plate and the food Arthur had ruined. After cleaning up, Alfred got into bed behind Arthur and held him close. He didn't want to cry. He was the hero, but with Arthur in is arms, he realized what he would be leaving behind. But he'd also be protecting the Englishman. No matter how he looked at it, he had to leave Arthur to help him.

**USUKUSUK**

**Author's note: Yay! Smut heehee. Okay, so I was writing that and my door opens and I'm thinking it was my mom and I'm all like "I'm going to die." but it was my lil bro and it was like..."Thank you flying mint bunny!" lol. Sorry for making Arthur throw a tantrum. He's frustrated! Heehee. Please review! I love reading your thoughts, good or bad. Just don't be rude about it, please. Thank you Hannah fish for correcting this~ You are the best. Lol suprise. :3**


	14. Two Days

**Chapter 12 - Two Days**

Francis looked around the dormitory hall and pulled Matthew closer to his side. The French Canadian looked up at Francis. "They might call you names." He whispered, side stepping a rubber band that was shot his way.

"I don't care." Francis looked and again and scrunched his nose up in disgust at a couple of men picking their noses. "How revolting they all are."

"Why do you think Alfred and I pushed our beds back here?" Matthew looked up at Francis and smiled, used to the other pilots' sickening behavior.

"Cos' no one wants you near all the normal people." one called out

Matthew gripped Francis's hand tightly. "Come on." He rushed to his and Alfred's area. Alfred's stuff was already at Arthur's. Boston's cat carrier, extra clothes, necessities, and just random stuff Alfred couldn't throw away. Matthew went to his bed and reached under the mattress.

"What are you hiding in there, _mon cher_?" Francis leaned in close to see what Matthew was getting.

"Just an old friend." Matthew smiled and showed Francis his polar bear. His fur was a bit dirty. Slightly red on his belly and his ears a tad brown along the edges. His was nose fraying, it was made out of string after all. "What was his name?" Matthew asked, genuinely lost for what he called his bear.

Francis grinned. "Kumajiro. Wasn't he white?"

"Yeah. Alfred would kill him though, that's why his stomach is red." Matthew set the toy on his bed and gathered the rest of his belongings.

"You let your brother kill your bear?" Francis watched Matthew skitter around his bed.

"Well, it's not like I let him. I would go to the bathroom or something and when I came out Alfred would have smashed cherries on Kumajimaro and say it was blood. If I remember right, Alfred even made a noose for him. Kumijaramo would hang from the tree with cherry blood and a noose." Matthew smiled and zipped up his bag. "Then Alfred would save him. I would have to scrub at his fur to get all the cherry out." He swung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed Francis's hand. "Lets get out of here." he moved to the door and winced when a rock pelted his cheek, leaving a red mark.

Francis turned sharply, his eyes flashing with anger. "Who am I killing?"

"Just leave it." Matthew grabbed his bear and the angry man's arm, pulling to the door. "We have to get to the bus."

Francis glared bullets at everyone in the room and followed Matthew's hunched over figure. When they got outside, Francis aimed a kick for the first thing he saw, which happened to be a bird. He missed, of course, and fell flat on his butt. Matthew smiled softly and sat by his lover, stretching out his legs so his thigh touched Francis's. "It's okay. I'm fine."

Francis looked up at Matthew and pouted at the welt on his perfect cheek. "I can't believe you lived with them for weeks."

"You get used to it." Matthew stood and grabbed Francis's soft hands, hauling him to his feet. "They are all like that here." Matthew clipped Kumajiro to his bag with his free hand.

"That's not how it is in France." He held onto Matthew's hand tightly and led him to the green truck waiting for them.

"Because you French are hopeless romanticists." Matthew smiled fondly at the Frenchman and followed him.

"I am nothing but hopelessly in love." Francis kissed Matthew then. In the middle of the day. In the middle of the sidewalk.

Matthew reluctantly pulled away. "Stop. I don't want to get beaten with rocks..." He walked ahead of Francis and saw Alfred and Arthur sitting closely on a bench near the truck. He glanced back at Francis and offered his hand.

Francis still pouted but took Matthew's fingers in his own and walked to the English-American couple.

Alfred jumped to his feet and hugged Matthew as soon as they were close enough. Matthew laughed and hugged his half-brother back. "I can't believe you have to leave early!" the older of the two whined.

"It's part of damage control." Matthew rubbed soothing circles into Alfred's back, making sure to scratch at his spine, making Alfred sigh.

Arthur stood and glared at Francis, who sneered right back. "I'm sorry to see you go, Matthew. Here, I-" Alfred stepped away from Matthew and nudged Arthur in the ribs. "Er. Alfred and I-" Alfred poked Arthur again. "Alright! Alfred baked some cookies. I got to stir in the chocolate chips." Arthur grumbled and handed Matthew the bag containing said cookies.

Matthew could feel the warmth through the pouch and he smiled. "Thank you, both of you." he added, to make the pouting Englishman feel better.

Alfred grabbed Arthur's hand, holding it close to his body so it was hard to notice to passerby. "Of course, Mattie!" he said, happily, then turned a stern gaze to Francis. "You better take care of my brother, Francis."

"I will. He will be my top priority." Francis smiled down at Matthew and Arthur rolled his eyes at the ridiculous French accent. His was so much better.

"I'll be careful, Alfred. I'll see you in a couple of days." Matthew hugged Alfred again then wrapped his arms around Arthur's shoulders, whispering, "Thank you for being his friend. Feliciano is great, but he's a bit too much for Alfred"

Arthur nodded and awkwardly hugged the boy back. Matthew let go and smile one more time.

"Come on, Francis." Matthew smiled at Alfred's sad face. "It's two days is all. You'll be fine without me."

"I know. I just can't believe you're not gonna fly with me no more." Alfred pouted some more, even resorting to stick his bottom lip out.

"Anymore, Poppet. You don't use double negatives." Arthur smiled softly at Alfred's grammar.

"Whatever, Artie. I talk just fine." Alfred kissed Arthur's cheek, then Matthew's. "Stay safe without me, okay?"

"Okay, Al." Matthew kissed both of Alfred's cheeks then allowed Francis to help him into the back of the truck with the rest of the Damage Control Crew. He turned and waved at the couple while the truck pulled away.

"How's your knee, Matthieu?" Francis asked, laying a hand on the other man's thigh.

"Just a bit tender. Good thing you cleaned it before we did _that _or it would have gotten infected and I would have had to chop it off." Matthew teased, leaning into Francis's side. They could cuddle on the truck without fear. Well, Matthew would be without fear. Everyone there was from France and every other person was holding hands or had their hands on others' thighs or torso. Matthew didn't mind. He could be himself around these men.

He cast a final look at his brother, who was waving both of his arms with all his might. Matthew laughed at the sight, and Arthur must have and raised his own arm in response. He kept it in the air until the truck rounded a corner and Matthew lost sight of his dear brother.

**USUKUSUK**

Ludwig had his arms around Feliciano. The little Italian was shaking and clinging to Ludwig's shirt.

"I'm leaving in two days." Feliciano looked up at Ludwig. "I-I will be gone for almost a year." his cheery auburn eyes were hinted with sadness and fear. It made Ludwig's stomach clench. "Will you be okay here for that long?"

"Yeah. I trust Antonio." Ludwig smiled softly. He and Feliciano weren't together, yet, but their bashful moments at dinner when their hands bumped and how they always ended up together when Feliciano came home. That alone had proven that they have feelings for each other. Ludwig wished it would move a bit faster. He would like to kiss Feliciano before he leaves, but, he guessed it would have to wait.

"I'll write letters to you, okay?" Feliciano let go of Ludwig's shirt to grip his hand instead.

"What about Lovino and Antonio?" Ludwig chuckled at Feliciano's look of realization. It was fun to tease the gullible Italian, but Ludwig didn't let it get too far.

Feliciano gaped at Ludwig. He was right! Feliciano would have to write three letters, and he was only thinking about Ludwig. "I'll write to them too! You all can have your own letter to know I'm okay!"

"You're just cooking for the soldiers, Feliciano. You will be inside for most of the time and not in the of war. I'm not all too worried about you dying in battle." Ludwig risked running his fingers down Feliciano's cheek. To his surprise, and delight, the little Italian leaned into his touch.

"But what if-"

"None of that." Ludwig replaced his soft smile with a stern look. "You are going to come back perfectly fine."

Feliciano nodded and set his head against Ludwig's shoulder. "I guess I'm scared of leaving you guys here. Lovino has been acting weird lately. I asked Tonio and even he doesn't know what's wrong with Lovi."

"I'm sure he's just going to miss you." Ludwig squeezed Feliciano's soft, small hand.

"I just can't believe I'm going six months to a year without you!" Feliciano flung his arms around Ludwigs neck.

Trying not to notice that Feliciano didn't say 'you, Lovino and Antonio', but just 'you', Ludwig hugged Feliciano's small frame gently. "I'm going to miss you, Feliciano."

Feliciano nodded. Most of the time, everyone called him Feli because his name was too long and hard to say, but Ludwig said the whole thing in his German accent all the time, and it made Feliciano feel special. He slowly eased himself into Ludwig's lap and wrapped his legs around the blonde mans hips. He was just too warm to let go.

Ludwig felt his face heat up as Feliciano got closer to Ludwig than ever before. He set his hands on Feliciano's sides, not knowing what to do. Feliciano was soft against his torso and thighs, he knew it. Feliciano was just a little kid in heart, soul, and body, and Ludwig found it endearing. He was being drawn into Feliciano's happy world.

"Ludwig..." Feliciano asked softly, his fingers digging into Ludwigs shirt collar. "I... I really like you.."

Ludwig could feel Feliciano's heart pounding through his thin cotton shirt. The Jewish man smiled in Feliciano's neck and pressed his hands against the little Italians back. "I really like you too, Feliciano."

"Really?" Feliciano looked up at Ludwig and smiled, his eyes twinkling.

"Really, really." Ludwig smiled fondly at the little Italian and kissed his cheek, pretty sure that was as close as he was going to get.

Feliciano smiled softly and kissed the corner of Ludwig's mouth, making himself comfortable on Ludwig's big lap. "When I come home, will you be here?"

"I'll wait for as long as I need." Ludwig traced Feliciano's cheek. He took a deep breath and pressed his forehead against the little Italian's. Their lips were inches apart. Ludwig was so close to Feliciano's kiss. He closed his eyes and gripped the slim hips straddling his lap, then crushed his lips against Feliciano's.

The little Italian blinked his auburn eyes then relaxed under Ludwig's touch. He returned the kiss, feeling Ludwig suck in his breath through his nose. Ludwig pulled away sharply, his face was flushed and his eyes were gleaming. Feliciano smiled. "So, you'll wait?"

Ludwig laughed at the normal tone in his voice after their first kiss. "As long as I need." He leaned in and pecked Feliciano's lips again and held the little Italian late into the night.

**USUKUSUK**

**AUTHOR's note: :/ next chapter will be York and Boston. Sorry for the short chapter and delay. Thanks Hannah fish for correcting this.**

***No problem Dearie!**


	15. Boston and York

**Chapter - 13 - Boston and York**

Boston was... rambunctious. He always insisted on having York show him where the fairies were so they could chase them. He was always hungry. He always wanted to be near York, although, York didn't mind the last one. And he was convinced he was going with Alfred to Germany. But York knew better, and he knew that Boston would be heartbroken watching his master drive away without him.

York sighed and set his fuzzy chin on his paws. Watching Boston jump around with Alfred was making him tired. Arthur ran his and down York's back and he meowed up at him. "They are rather exhausting when we feed them sugar, aren't they?" Arthur asked, smiling softly, but York saw the red rimming his eyes. Arthur was going to have as bad of a time with Alfred leaving as Boston. Alfred was leaving tomorrow afternoon.

Sighing again, York went over to Boston and bit his tail. Alfred laughed. "Is York jealous of Boston? Here." the imbecile scooped up York and Boston snickered. It was funny when Alfred tried to hold York when he didn't want to be held.

York glared at Boston but let Alfred rub his greasy, American face all over his fur. It was rather unpleasant, being kissed when the person's breath smelled like sweets and hamburger. York situated himself in Alfred's arms and gazed at Boston, who had started pacing his master's feet. He thought York being held was funny, until he started getting anxious about him falling or being taken away. York caught Boston's eye and glanced at the dense bookshelves.

"Alfred, Dear, do put down York before Boston breaks something." Arthur stood and made his way to Alfred. "We need to park your truck behind back anyway."

"Alright." Alfred released York and walked to the door, Boston at his heels. The fluffy cat always got excited when he heard the word 'truck', he always thought it meant he would go on a ride.

York rolled his green eyes and followed Boston. He would never admit it, but he liked going for rides in the truck too. Especially when Alfred would park and swoon over Arthur. It gave York a chance to go under the truck with Boston and go at it like rabbits.

Alfred opened the glass door and Boston bolted to the truck. York meowed at him to slow down and followed. Arthur laughed behind them. "They sure like going for rides." York glanced back. His master's laugh was forced, like Alfred's smile. Its been like that for two days now. York shook his head and sat beside Boston, waiting for Alfred to open the door.

Boston's master opened the door and the cats jumped in, curling up beside each other on the passenger side so Arthur could sit in the middle, like usual. Arthur boosted himself in and York watched him. He could see his master's eyes were not as vibrant, and he looked pale. Well, paler than usual. He looked sickly. York looked up at Boston sadly.

Boston sensed that his lover was upset and promptly licked his orange ear to calm him. York sighed and settled his chin on Boston's back, relishing in the fluffiness and warmth. Boston was like a human. Always warm and comfy to lay on. Boston meowed and rested his head atop York's, encasing the Scottish fold in his heat.

York closed his eyes, glad that Boston was staying here with him. He didn't know what he would do without the other cat's loud meows, snoring, licking, playful pleas and humping. The truck rumbled to life and Alfred drove around the block, lulling York to sleep. He was prodded too soon by Arthur and he raised his head, grumbling in his throat.

"Come on, York. We need to walk back to the library, it's getting late." His master said.

Taking the hint, York ushered Boston out of the truck and went around the corner of the nearest building, looking at the rising moon.

Boston sat beside York and tilted his head. _"Why did we come out here, meow?"_

_"So they could be alone, Git. Meow." _York looked up at Boston. _"Alfred is leaving tomorrow afternoon, we shouldn't disturb."_

_"You think too much for a kitten." _Boston laid down and rolled onto his back, his huge paws in the air.

York crawled over Boston's stomach and spread himself across his large tummy. _"I am hardly a kitten, meow. _You _are the kitten."_

_"But it's _New _York, meow. So that means you're the kitten, duh." _Boston closed his eyes and licked York's cheek.

_"How dare you think I was named after such a place, meow!" _York tried to ignore Boston's licking as it made its way to his sensitive orange ear.

_"You're so grumpy, meow." _The larger cat rolled them over and mounted York, who felt his fur rise in anticipation.

_"_You _make me grumpy!" _York meowed at the intrusion, but welcomed it. All thoughts besides cat nip and Boston fled his mind as Boston began to move behind him. He began to meow his pleasure. 'I'm pretty sure if I was a woman cat, I would have had nine litters of kittens by now.' York managed to think, as his eyes slipped closed and Boston licked his orange ear again, sending shock waves down his spine.

York startled when he heard a laugh behind him. He raised his head grumpily and glared at Alfred. "I found them, Artie!" He called to Arthur in his booming voice.

Boston sighed and licked York's ear one last time before pulling out and trotting to Alfred. Arthur appeared then and scooped up York into his arms, nuzzling his face into York's soft fur. "You scared me half to death!"

York let out a soft sigh, knowing that Arthur was scared that he was left alone. York didn't mind Arthur's fussing, but it still broke his heart when he would walk up to Arthur after a day of chasing mice to see fear and worry wash away from his master's face. Closing his eyes, York situated himself in Arthur's arms, mindful of his bottom.

He wished he could talk to Boston, but it was hard to do with Arthur around. He would most likely understand them. Since it was the fairies who cast the spell on them. Instead, York raised his head and gazed at his lover. Alfred was holding him closely and had their cheeks pressed together. Boston's eyes were glazed with sadness and Alfred was on the verge of crying. York meowed and Arthur looked up at the Americans, he smiled and stepped to Alfred.

"Let's go inside." He whispered, setting York down.

"Alright." Alfred nodded and placed Boston by York. He took Arthur's hand and started around the block.

York nipped at Boston's tail, hoping he would get the hint and stop.

Boston turned around and tilted his head, a fluffy white ear flopping to the side. His eyes asked, 'What is it?' York glanced at their masters who were holding the door open for them. York quickly went inside and lead Boston to their secret place. He looked back once and gave a satisfied meow that Boston was following him like the good dog he was.

Turning the corner and jumping onto the shelves, York made his way into the cubby hole in the rafters. He would watch people and Arthur all day from this spot. But now that Boston was here, they usually just cuddled, had kitty sex or made fun of the old women flirting with Arthur. York wriggled under the board and settled on the blanket he dragged up there when he was smaller and could fit under the board with an object. He looked up at Boston as he lowered himself beside York.

_"Why are we up here, meow?"_

_"I wanted to give Alfred and Arthur a chance to talk before Alfred leaves tomorrow, meow."_ York leaned against Boston's side.

_"I can't believe he's actually leaving. We've been together since he found me, meow."_ Boston sighed, and York knew had never heard him so sad.

_"I can't imagine how you feel. I would probably be dead without Arthur, meow."_ The Scottish Fold nuzzled the bigger cat's cheek, wanting to comfort him. _"But Alfred is strong. He won't leave you or Arthur behind, meow."_

_"Or you, York. Alfred likes you too, meow."_ He reached down and licked York's sensitive ear, sending him into a purring mess.

_"Maybe just a little."_ York managed to get out.

Boston just meowed and settled into cleaning York's fur. After a few minutes of silence, the snuggling cats heard a loud moan. Boston jumped to his feet, making York roll over and glare at him. _"What in the bloody cat hell is your problem, meow?!"_

_"Alfred is in trouble!"_ He turned and got his fat backside under the board in record time.

_"He's not, you git!"_ York followed just as a soft shout of "Alfred!" rang though the empty library.

_"Now Arthur is hurt, meow! Someone must have broken in!"_ Boston jumped from the bookshelf and looked up at York. _"Why aren't you worried, meow?!"_

York sighed and jumped down, landing softly beside Boston. _"It's the same as the other night, meow."_ Boston just looked confused. York sighed again and started to explain like a mother cat to a kitten. _"You know what we do, right?"_

Boston was silent for a moment then his eyes sparked and York saw a fairy floating over Boston's head, much like a light-bulb. _"You mean kitty sex?!"_

York was going to pass out from how much he was sighing. _"Yes, meow. But they're doing human sex."_

There was a pause. _"That sounds weird, meow. How do they do it?"_

_"I can show you, meow."_ York stood and went up the spiral stairs, Boston practically stepping on his tail.

_"Do they do it like us, meow?"_ Boston asked, his fairy given voice curious.

_"Hmm... kind of, meow. I think they can look at each other though. I've never seen it for myself, meow, but I've heard of it."_

_"I wish I could see you when we have kitty sex."_ Boston whined. _"I can't see your face or hear you meow as good, meow."_

York felt heat beneath his collar and hmph-ed. _"Maybe we can try next time, meow."_

Boston cheered and followed York into Arthur's apartment. York looked back at Boston and smiled, he turned into Arthur's room and sat down by the door, he whispered, _"That's human sex."_

Boston's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open comically. _"Whoa!"_ He stared at their masters, his eyes large and shining.

York looked at Alfred and Arthur. He tilted his head. Alfred was sitting back on Arthur's head board. He had his eyes half closed, the brilliant blue glinting in the dark room. Arthur was sitting on Alfred's lap, his head was hidden in Alfred's neck, his back was covered in red spots. York could see Alfred disappearing into Arthur's bottom. It kind of freaked him out. Is that what kitty sex looked like? He looked at Boston, who was very obviously enjoying watching their masters.

Arthur looked up abruptly and turned in Alfred's lap. "What are you doing in here?!"

York stood and started to back out. Alfred and Boston blinked in unison. "They're not hurting anyone."

"It's Miss Rosa! She's watching us!" Arthur grabbed the sheets and pulled it around himself and Alfred, he glared at a spot above Boston and York. He then stood and looked out the window. Lightening lit up his face and his green eyes went wide. Thunder rumbled and York was in Arthur's arms in seconds.

Boston looked at where York was moments ago then looked at Arthur. The pair of Brits were curled under the window. Arthur was shaking and had his face buried in York's fur. Alfred stood and made his way to Arthur.

"Hey, Artie. What's wrong?" He asked, motioning for Boston to follow him.

"Bombs." Arthur mumbled, only Boston heard him.

"What? What is it?" Alfred asked, picking up Arthur, who curled more tightly in on himself.

"Bombs! We're going to die!" Arthur's face was coated in tears and Boston could see York's eyes, sad and worried, looking up at his master.

"Arthur... there are no bombs. It's okay. Just relax." Alfred took Arthur in his arms and held him close. Boston thought York looked kind of squished between them, so he went in to rescue him.

He stood on his back legs and placed his white paws on Alfred's thigh, which was still naked, and meowed loudly. Alfred looked down and smiled. Obviously misunderstanding Boston's dilemma. "See, Artie? Even Boston wants to help you." Alfred set Arthur down on the bed with York and called Boston up onto the mattress.

Arthur found a comfortable spot on his side with York curled by his stomach. Alfred laid so that he could look at Arthur. Boston sat close to York, his eyes a giant question mark. York looked at Boston sadly and nodded to the window. Rain was pelting the glass and lightening flashed. With every roll of thunder, Arthur tensed up and gripped Alfred's hand.

"Arthur. What's going on?" Alfred asked softly. Boston had to strain his ears to listen. After all, when Alfred was away Boston was the hero in his place. He had to listen and get every detail to be a good substitute for Alfred.

"R-remember how... when I told you m-my family died?" Arthur whispered, holding York tightly. Boston was a bit jealous that Arthur could actually hold the cat.

"Yes. One of the first bombings." Alfred smoothed Arthur's locks behind his ear and Boston copied him with the sheets.

"Before, at school. There was a noise. It was like thunder, but it was sunny outside. My doctor, Roderich, told me that the thunder noise must have been the planes." Arthur's eyes welled with tears. "What if it's not thunder?"

"Then I'll protect you." Alfred murmured and Boston felt York shiver.

A little disgruntled, Boston licked York's sensitive ear. He wished he could make York shiver like that with his voice, but since they couldn't talk as freely, it was rather difficult.

York gave Boston a fond look and nuzzled his face into his shoulder. Arthur's whisper said what York was thinking. "I love you."

Boston rubbed his face into York's neck and had Alfred reply for him. "I love you too."

The two couples fell asleep. One was restless and awoke frequently, blonde hair wilder each hour. One comforted, fluffy fur getting matted with tears. One worried for another, green eyes wide and anxious. And one worried for the three, soft, American heart clenching with every sob he heard during the night.

USUKUSUK.

**Author's Note: yay! Boston and York! Boston learned about human sex and York is... posh... So this is Alfie's last night. *sob* I have no clue what next chapter will be, but it will most likely be sad. Thanks Hannah fish for correcting this! Stay tuned!**


	16. Farewell

**Chapter 14 Farewell.**

Arthur awoke to a cold pillow and feared the worst. Alfred had already left. He sat up quickly, wincing at the sting in his backside. He looked around. He smelled something good. He stood, grabbed Alfred's discarded shirt, slipped it on and went into the kitchen. Alfred was dressed sharply in his uniform and setting the table. Arthur's breath caught. Alfred looked amazing with his pressed green suit and boots, his bomber jacket draped over a chair.

Arthur placed his hands on the soft leather jacket and watched Alfred silently. His usually happy face was set in a firm line. He wasn't moving his body like he didn't have a care in the world. He was moving with brisk and direct movements. Arthur found it handsome, but he hated it. He padded his way across the floor and wrapped his arms around Alfred's waist, his face pressed in between the American's shoulder blades.

Alfred smiled at the pan of eggs. "Good morn-ow! What are you doing?!"

Arthur pulled his had away from Alfred's slightly chubby side and kissed his cheek. "Stop being like that." He gave a small smile and ran his fingers over Alfred's cheek.

"Alright. Hey, sit down. I bet you're hungry." Alfred scooped the fluffy eggs onto a plate and set them on the table.

"You did it wrong." Arthur sat and picked up his fork.

"What do you mean?" Alfred got himself a plate and sat, moving his chair closer to Arthur's.

"They're yellow. Aren't they supposed to be brown?" Arthur poked at the eggs, wondering if they were still raw.

"No. Scrambled eggs are supposed to be yellow, Artie." Alfred grinned. "Why would they be brown?"

"So you don't eat raw eggs. Are they cooked all the way?" He was getting more worried with every second. Why would Alfred feed him raw eggs that could make him sick? And with the war going on, there wasn't a lot of medicine so Arthur would be forced to die a slow and painful death.

Alfred laughed and grabbed Arthur's face, working his jaw open. "Say ahhh..." He scooped the eggs onto his fork and made his way to Arthur's mouth.

Arthur struggled at the oncoming food. He didn't want to get sick and die without Alfred. "No, Alfred, really. I don't-" he was cut off by Alfred's mouth. His tongue slipped in easily. Arthur closed his eyes and set his hands on Alfred's cheeks. He felt Alfred's warm hand on his bare thigh. Suddenly, Alfred pulled away. Arthur opened his eyes a crack, his mouth slack, his lips slick from Alfred's tongue. He swallowed thickly and tried to say something. How could Alfred make him feel like this with just a kiss?! It was ridiculous! It was amazing. It was-

in his mouth.

While Arthur was in a daze, Alfred took the chance to dump the eggs on his tongue. Arthur's senses spiked and he clamped his jaw shut.

Alfred grinned. "Chew. It's good. I promise. Mattie loves my eggs."

Arthur couldn't yell at Alfred with the food in his mouth. He slowly chewed. His eyes widened at the taste. "Wow! I didn't know eggs could taste like this when they were yellow!"

Alfred laughed. "Well, now you know. Have Miss Rosa help you while I'm gone."

Immediately, Arthur's stomach fell. He looked at his plate.

"Hey, Artie. It's okay." Alfred pulled Arthur into his lap, mindful of his sore backside. Arthur situated himself so that his bare legs were draped over Alfred's thighs. The fabric of Alfred's uniform irritated his skin, but Arthur didn't mind. "I'll be back before you know it. And you'll be busy watching Boston and York." He offered the now whimpering Englishman a smile. "Get dressed and you can walk me to the truck. You'll be able to see Feli and Ludwig too. Might even meet his brother."

Arthur sniffled and stood. He didn't want to hurt Alfred's feelings, so he grabbed the plate of eggs and ate them while he walked to his room. He was going to wear that green sweater Alfred was so find of. Maybe Alfred would let him wear his jacket as long as possible. Before he disappeared for good.

USUKUSUK

Feliciano could swear that he had never hugged Ludwig for so long. They were in their room, Feliciano, per usual, was straddling Ludwig's lap. Their hands tangled in the others hair, lips on each others ears, whispering sweet nothings. Since they had admitted their affections, their relationship had gotten a lot more intimate. They hadn't made love yet, but Feliciano was hopeful that when he came back, Ludwig would be waiting for him.

Sniffing, Feliciano stood. "Better get your disguise on."

"Right." Ludwig had insisted on seeing Feliciano and Alfred off. The only thing they could come up with was that Ludwig was Feliciano's mute grandfather. It worked since no one knew about Feliciano's past.

Ludwig reluctantly sat Feliciano on the bed and stood. Antonio had provided them with a black hooded cloak and a cane. Ludwig clipped the cloak at the base of his neck and smiled at Feliciano. The little Italian had said the American uniforms were ugly, so he opted for a blue Italian one. Feliciano kicked his feet, the heels of his boots making a _skkrrch_ sound on the wooded floor. Ludwig's smile widened and he leaned down and pecked the little Italian on his sweet mouth. "Ready?"

Feliciano sighed and hugged Ludwig tightly. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Ti amo, Feliciano."

"ICH LIEBE DICH!" Feliciano wailed with an awkward German accent, crying suddenly into Ludwig's shoulder.

"Shut the hell up!" A shout from downstairs.

Ludwig sighed. Lovino had no love for his brother at times. "We should be going. Don't worry, it's only for a little while." Ludwig murmured. Why did it feel like he was at war? His stomach was a hard cold knot and his hands were shaking.

"O-okay." Feliciano stood and adjusted Ludwig's hood, covering his face and hiding his telltale German features. Ludwig grabbed the gnarled wooden cane and led Feliciano downstairs. The little Italian could cling to Ludwig until they got to the bus since he'd look like he was helping an older person. Ludwig could keep Feliciano in the safety of his arms until they got to the army truck. Until they said farewell.

USUKUSUK

Arthur looked around the corner at the truck again, holding Alfred's hands tightly to his chest, Alfred's jacket draped across his shoulders. He glanced back at the American was met with his warm lips. Arthur sighed through his nose and wrapped his arms around the American.

Alfred pulled away all too quickly. "Come on, I see Feliciano."

Arthur nodded and followed Alfred closely to Feliciano and his party. He noticed Ludwig hunched over, his face close to the Italian's ear. Feliciano had tear tracks on his cheeks and his hand wrapped around his twin's tightly.

When the English-American couple approached them, Feliciano hugged Arthur tightly. "It's like we're t-taking it harder than th-them!" He wailed. "Why are we cursed with being the ukes?!"

Alfred patted Feliciano on his heaving back. "It's tough for the semes too, Feli. We don't know if our wo-man is safe." He then looked at Ludwig, his disguise deceiving the other soldiers saying good by to friends they had made. "Though, I expect you to keep a watchful eye on my Arthur."

Ludwig nodded and gestured to Feliciano, implying Alfred do the same with the little Italian.

"I'll watch him." Alfred looked at the pair of ukes, both were crying, though Arthur was a bit more reserved, lamenting about what they'll miss about their partners.

"It's going to be so cold at night!" Feliciano sobbed, hiding Arthur's hands.

"Wh-who will give me his j-jacket when it r-rains?" Arthur sniffled.

They both paused for a moment, then clung to each others hands more tightly. "Who will sleep with me?!" They cried in unison, Feliciano flung his arms around Arthur, Arthur awkwardly wrapped his slim arms under the Italians arms and they cried in the others neck.

Feliciano looked up. "I don't want to g-go anymore, Alfred."

"Me neither, Feli, but we have to." Alfred pulled Arthur to his chest and unzipped the warm bomber jacket.

Arthur sniffled and watched Alfred's hands. The American looked up and smiled. "I have something for you, Artie."

"Y-yeah?" Arthur's tears subsided but he still sniffed.

Antonio stepped forward and handed Alfred a package wrapped in brown paper. Alfred thanked him then looked at Arthur. "Here, open it." Alfred placed the parcel to Arthur, who wiped his eyes and tugged at the corners. The paper fell to the ground.

Arthur covered his mouth to muffle a sob. Sometime, during their weeks together, Alfred had managed to take pictures of himself and Arthur. Arthur was sleeping in two, but the third happened a week ago. When Alfred was teaching Arthur how to drive his truck. The photo was from outside the truck, the window was down, Arthur was perched on Alfred's knee, their hands locked together. It was a profile shot, but it was Arthur's favorite. Alfred had all three framed. "Oh, Alfred..." Arthur breathed.

"There's more." Alfred grinned.

Arthur had Alfred hold the photos and tears slipped down his cheeks again. There was a picture of Alfred. He was smiling widely at the camera, his hair blown back by some past wind. He had his hands up by his face, making a heart with his fingers. Arthur giggled. "When was this one taken?"

"Mattie took it. He left his camera so..." Alfred blushed and rubbed the back of his head.

"They're wonderful. But..." Arthur looked down, one more present was left. He handed Alfred the other picture and grabbed a bundle of fabric. He unfolded it. Alfred had given him... a sweater? Arthur looked up, question in his eyes. It was a beautiful sweater. Dark blue that brought out Alfred's eyes with black trim.

"The old lady made that for me. Mattie has a purple one. It doesn't fit anymore so... I thought you might want it." Alfred smiled and touched Arthur's cheek.

There was a pause between them. "I love you, Alfred F. Jones." Arthur whispered, gathering his wonderful gifts.

Alfred kissed the English man on his nose. "I love you too, Arthur Kirkland." Pressing a final kiss to Arthur's lips, Alfred turned briskly and climbed into the truck.

Ludwig's and Feliciano's goodbyes were shorter. Ludwig had pulled Feliciano into his arms, the little Italian body hidden in the darkness of the cloak. They had kissed long and deep. Then Lovino touched Feliciano's back.

"Feli, I have to go to work." He said, no swearing or yelling.

Feliciano pulled back and hugged his twin. "I'm going to miss you Fratello."

Lovino hugged his brother hard then stepped away. "Ti amo, Feliciano." He even smiled a little.

"T-ti amo, Lovino." Feliciano whispered, then watched his brother run off into the crowd. Antonio kissed Feliciano's cheeks then gave him and Ludwig a bit more time.

Ludwig kissed Feliciano gingerly on the forehead, closing his eyes right, his lips trembling. Feliciano swallowed thickly. "Ich liebe dich, Ludwig."

"Ti amo, Feliciano."

Without another word, Feliciano turned and followed Alfred onto the truck.

Arthur placed a hand on Ludwig's arm. They both felt their heart drive away with the truck, while the American and Italian in the truck felt their hearts rip out of their chest and drop to the road.

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Lovino didn't go to work. Instead he went to the harbor, looking around for the black boat. He gulped when he saw the massive ship and made his way over to it. He threw a purposely placed pebble onto the deck and waited, shuffling his feet.

A moment later a rope latter rubles down next to him. He stepped back, pulling at his shirt. The towering Russian glowered at him. He spoke softly, dangerously, "You have the German, da?"

Lovino gulped again. "Y-yes. He'll be at the house by himself four times a month." He felt awful giving his brother's lover away, but they needed the money.

"Those days are?" The Russian growled.

His mouth went dry. Lovino tried to swallow, failed, then licked his lips. "Th-the first Monday. The second Saturday. The third Monday." He croaked out.

"Very good." The man dropped a bag next to Lovino's feet, his purple eyes childlike, his smile menacing. "Pleasure doing business with you." He climbed the ladder and disappeared.

Lovino picked up the money bag. His heart pounding. He looked around, then opened the bag and counted what he could see. The Russian held to his deal. Lovino smiled. Sure Feliciano will hate him, but Lovino would be _alive_ when Feli returned. Lovino sighed and touched the rosary around his neck. He prayed to the gods to bring his twin brother home safe.

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**Author's note: Thank you Hannah fish for all you do~ today is 9/11 so that's why that last sentence is there. *bows head* I was only like four when that happened. I remember going downstairs and seeing my mom on the couch, staring at the TV and holding my sister. She called my father, making sure he was okay. Then she held me and we watched the news report. I don't remember what it said it anything, but I know we watched it. Hannah fish... your thoughts...**

***Hannah Fish/Beta/Daifukubun says: Please don't hate Lovi! I know he did a bouchedaggy thing but he's still the lil' Lovi we know and love. *ahem* I, myself, don't remember any of what happened on that day. I was about 4 as well. My mother said she was home alone with me and we were watching the news reports. She said she had me in her lap while she was doing her online work, and was startled out of her thoughts when a co-worker called and told her the news. I don't remember any of it, and maybe it's best that I didn't. However, today is a solemn day and I will always have respect for the people who lost their lives at that time. I wish you all the best of luck in your mourning. Onto a lighter note! I'm sure my Dearie here would appreciate a few reviews! Trust me, she's very talkative, and that's why I love her!**


	17. End of Spring

Chapter 15 End of Spring

Alfred left at the end of spring, four weeks before his birthday. Arthur had been looking for the perfect present. Now that Alfred was gone, it was hard to remember what he liked. Was it snails he hated, or clams? Stupid French cuisine. Did he prefer red or blue? Alfred told Arthur quite often that since their flags matched in color, England was just a smaller America. Did Alfred say he was from Boston or Atlanta? Or maybe he said he was born in Boston, but comes from Atlanta. With Alfred gone, Arthur couldn't remember the little details. The important, little details. He started writing then down each time he remembered something for a fact.

Arthur sighed and picked up his shopping basket. "Boston, York, time to go." He looked around. He saw the cats looking up at a spot on the wall.

"What are you looking at?" He went over to the felines and tilted his head.

York looked up at him, his eyes a bit wide. Boston coughed. "What?" Arthur asked. Then sighed again and gestured to the basket, the cats jumped in nimbly. Arthur turned to the door, pulled the soft blue sweater on, and walked out.

What he didn't see was Peter crying next to Miss Rosa. Both of them leaning on the wall.

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Yao looked up at Ivan curiously. They had been watching the Jew for two weeks. They knew when he was home alone, why hadn't they taken action?

"Ivan-"

"He's tense. He'll be strong while like this. He'll put up a fight." Ivan said quietly, somehow reading Yao's thoughts.

"Oh, aru." Yao breathed out and looked at the Jew again. He was laying in his back with the afternoon light shining on his face. He left the curtain open. Stupid Jew. No wonder Yao wanted him dead.

"Then, when will we take action? It's been days, aru." Yao sighed, tucking his hands in his large sleeves.

"The end of summer." Ivan said, loosening his scarf. The afternoon was warm today.

"That's months away!" He blurted. "The boy will be back by then, aru! We can't kill him AND the Jew!"

Ivan turned quickly and grabbed Yao by his collar, lifting him two feet in the air easily. He shoved his face close to Yao's. his breath smelt like vodka and food. He growled in his throat, "You will wait patiently or be strapped to the head board until I get my pray. Understood, da?"

"Y-yes. I wait, I wait." Yao's eyes were large, his English turned spotty and thick when he was under stress.

"Good." The Russian dropped the smaller man to the ground, who backed away quickly, not caring about the dirt and grime on his robes.

Yao let out a shaky breath and patted down his hair. Ivan could scare him at times, but he still loved the big Russian. Yao was truly in deep. He closed his eyes and a single word came out.

"Aru."

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Ludwig rolled over and looked out the the grimy window. A shadow had passed over him. Probably a bird. He stood and closed the curtains anyway. Ludwig sighed. This was the sixth time he'd been home alone. It was starting to make him nervous.

Making sure no one was in the house, Ludwig settled back in Feliciano's room. He picked up the latest book Arthur had given him, thankfully, he found a copy in German, so it wasn't to difficult. Speaking English was simple, reading the blasted language was awful. How many theres do you need? Same with which. Stupid English.

Ludwig finished the chapter then stood again. He looked out the window, it was almost evening. His eyes scoured the next door buildings. When he saw nothing, he made to close the curtain, but another shadow darted across him. He looked up quickly, and the shadow ducked behind a shack or some other structure. Heart beating fast, Ludwig pulled the curtain shut. Hopefully Antonio would come home soon.

Ludwig picked up the book and went back to Feliciano's bed. This was ridiculous. He was bigger than the Vargas twins and Antonio combined! Why was he so worried?

'Because Feliciano could be hurt because of me.' A sad little voice whispered.

"No! I won't let him get hurt!" Ludwig told himself firmly, fists shaking. He sighed. He really wished Feliciano wasn't gone. He was probably getting picked on because of how bubbly he was. Ludwig closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. He was getting a headache from all this worrying. He rolled over in Feliciano's soft, creaky bed, clutched the pillow that smelled of the little Italian, and after hours of agonizing over his faraway love, fell into a fitful sleep.

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Matthew looked out over the camp. It wasn't all that different from air camps, just that instead of planes, there were tanks.

He leaned against Francis's emergency truck and watched the Frenchman give instructions to his crew. Last night was Matthew's second night. He was shown the ropes that day and that evening took medical lessons. The first night? Well, he was busy attending a very stubborn patient. A very stubborn _French_ patient. In a private tent. Today, his third day, he would go in with the crew. It was hard to believe that he was actually here with Francis. Maybe today will make it more real.

He left the truck and made his way to Francis, who was laughing. He tilted his head and stopped a few yards away.

"He is definitely the cutest one I've had!" Francis boasted loudly, not noticing Matthew.

"Yeah," one of the soldiers replied. "Will you tell him about the others?"

Matthew's heart stopped. Others? He held stock still and listened to his 'lover'.

"No." Francis sniffed.

"Why? Think he'll leave you?" Another asked.

"It's more like... like he doesn't need to know my past." Francis started.

Matthew felt tears burn his eyes. He gripped his polar bear to his chest.

"Because all that matters is our future." Francis finished.

Matthew felt tears run down his cheeks. He ran and gripped Francis close to his slightly smaller frame.

"M-Mathieu?! What on earth...?" Francis ran his fingers down Matthew's cheeks. "What is this?"

"I love you.."

Francis smiled and quickly switched to French. He said a few choice words that made Matthew blush and the crew chuckle.

"Ah! I have forgotten that we are with my fellow French! They understand all the lewd things I say to you!" Francis nuzzled Matthew's cheek.

"Then stop saying lewd things!" Matthew snapped playfully, pinching Francis's chin.

Francis laughed and grazed his tongue over Matthew's ear. "I'll just perform them then."

Matthew turned a brilliant shade of red and punched Francis in the arm. "Why on earth do I stay with you?"

"Why wouldn't you, _mon cher_?" Francis merely smiled and pulled Matthew close to his chest.

The other men made kissing noises, suddenly, Matthew was launched forward. The air filled with noise, the ground shook and the skies turned gray.

"Take cover! We're needed later!" Francis shouted at a group, then turned to a group dressed in white. "Go to the hospital tent and calm everyone down!" He turned and grabbed Matthew's hand. "Don't let go!"

Matthew nodded and followed Francis to a ditch. They jumped in and huddled down close together. Francis seemed to think Matthew was a damsel in distress, but Matthew allowed the Frenchman to titter and shush him, even if he did make no noise to be shushed.

After a couple of minutes, Francis stood and scanned the area. He nodded, satisfied and helped Matthew out of the ditch. Dust was settling and the skies slowly cleared. Francis gave two sharp whistles and led Matthew to camp. He hadn't realized that they had gone out so far. He counted the crew as they turned up, no one was missing.

"Everyone here? Good. Ten minutes and were out. Matthew, follow me." The group split up again, getting ready to go out in the field to retrieve the dead and wounded. Matthew had mixed feelings. He finally got to help people, but that meant seeing damage up close. When he shot planes from the sky, it was like a game. One bad guy died, then another came to take its place. Matthew winced at how Alfred that sounded.

Sighing to himself, Matthew entered behind Francis into a large tent. Francis left Matthew eating by the door and went to a bag, reaching inside as tugged out white uniforms. "I need a new one and you need one. Hurry. They'll be waiting by the time I help you into this thing."

A few minutes later, Francis had Matthew dressed in the white garb and had his crew in the truck. Matthew clung to Francis's hand while they drove.

"Where are we going?" He asked softly.

"The border. We get survivors and dead one at a time by miles." Francis replied.

"What if the enemy is on our side?"

"If they're alive they get medical treatment, then taken in for questioning. If they're dead, we bury them separate from our people."

Matthew was silent.

They arrived at the border and Francis helped Matthew down from the truck. He then told his men. "You know what to do!" He grabbed a box and a bag. Matthew watched the men split into pairs then start walking in a straight row. Each pair about a yard apart. He looked at Francis. "Follow me."

Matthew nodded and grabbed his lover's hand. They walked in silence until Francis rushed forward a few feet. He knelt down and turned a man onto his back. His hair was dirty and blonde. Blood cakes the left side of his face. Matthew gasped and knelt beside the man. He was breathing heavily.

Francis got a gauze out. "I can't tell the damage with this blood and dirt." He mumbled, pouring a smelly liquid onto the gauze.

Matthew grabbed the man's hand, hoping to comfort him. He opened his right eye. It was brown, and large like a fawn. And scared like an owl caught in a trap.

"Talk to him, Mathieu." Francis whispered, taking supplies out and moving Matthew's hand from the wound.

Matthew crawled to the other side of the young man and took his shaking hand. "Hi. I-I'm Matthew. What's your name?"

The man winced when Francis gave him an injection into his temple. "T-Tino. Have you s-seen a tall m-man with glasses?"

Matthew blinked. Why didn't he ask how bad it was? "No. Someone will find him." Matthew smiled. "Why do you want to know?"

"He's my husband." He said, clutching Matthew's hand. Matthew blinked again.

Francis opened Tino's wounded eye and nodded to himself. "Just a graze above your eyebrow. Debris is in your eye. Looks like a piece of metal. The real doctors can fix that." He then wrapped a bandage around Tino's head, covering his eye.

Matthew blinked for the third time, extremely confused. "Alright Mathieu, help me bring him to the truck."

"I can walk. I just want-"

"M' w'fe!" Tino gasped and sat up quickly, clinging to Matthew.

"Berwald!" He shouted.

A tall blonde man fell in front of Tino and grabbed his face. "'Re y'o ok'y?"

"Yes. It's just a graze. What about you?" Tino reached his arm up and grabbed the man's hand.

"F'ne." The man knelt down and hugged Tino.

"Oh! This is your husband Tino!" Matthew said, finally realizing what was going on.

Tino's face appeared from behind Berwald's shoulder. "Yes." His brown eyes were shining.

"How did you do that?" Matthew asked. "Get married I mean."

Berwald looked down at Tino and said something in a strangle language. Tino smiled brightly and replied, gesturing at Francis and Matthew. Berwald nodded and stood. He faced Francis.

"Th'nk y'o f'r s'v'ng m' w'fe." Berwald helped Tino off the ground and wrapped his arms around the small man. Matthew suppressed a giggle. Tino barely went to Berwald's shoulder. And Matthew was taller than Tino too.

"It's my job. He still has some metal in his eye. An ambulance is on the way. Matthew, stay here with them. I'm going to check on everyone." Francis smiled at Tino and kissed Matthew's cheek, then he went to his crew.

Tino was smiling and looking at Matthew when he said, "We just did it."

Matthew blushed. Did what?! Did _it_?! Is that why Berwald had been so worried?! "Um... excuse me?"

"We just got married. Berwald asked me a week before we were shipped out here. Then I had my brother marry us."

"Ev'n th'gh h' sw're da wh'l t'm." Berwald mumbled.

"Oh, shush. Emil was happy for us." Tino smiled fondly.

Matthew smiled with him and rubbed his arms. How could this couple be from a different country and be fighting for Britain?

"Because my brother from Denmark got captured while he was in Germany." Tino said.

Matthew paled. Had he spoken out loud?

"He didn't know the war would start. He was on vacation with his boyfriend and when they were asked for their papers, they didn't have any and got captured." Tino clenched Berwald's hand. "I'm hoping to find him on the front line. They do that with prisoners sometimes, and Matthias is very strong."

"I... I'm terribly sorry." Matthew said.

"It's fine. It's those damn Germans after all." Tino smiled slightly.

"Matthieu!" Francis called suddenly. "We need to get back to work. The doctors will take care of Tino." The Frenchman ran up the the group and touched Matthew's lower back. "The ambulance is coming. Since your wound is not life threatening, you'll be one of the last to get treated."

"I don't mind. I understand. Berwald will keep me company." Tino smiled. "I hope to see you some more Matthew!"

"Yes. Good luck." Matthew smiled and leaned into Francis's side.

"Thank you." Tino gave a wave and turned to the ambulance. He helped a man into the truck while Berwald picked two different men up and followed.

Matthew looked up at Francis. "There is something I want you to see." His face was solemn.

"Okay." He grabbed the slightly taller man's hand and followed him through the bloody field.

After a few minutes they came upon a small boy on his side, his eyes were closed. Matthew dropped Francis's hand and fell to his knees. He grabbed the boy's face. "Is he alive?!" He brushed reddish mud off his face. The boy's skin was pale.

"Barely. You'll be seeing this everyday, Matthew." Francis said.

"We have to help him!" Matthew shoved his arms under the boy's knees and wrapped his other arm around slim shoulders. He hefted the boy in the air and stood. The boy's head slouched back and Matthew could see blood soaking his neck and chest. The boy cracked his eyes open, his mouth was slack.

"Matthieu. It's useless. He's almost dead." Francis said and tried to grab the boy.

"Shut up! He's barely younger than I am! He probably has a girlfriend and a sister and a mother waiting for him!" Matthew narrowed his eyes. "I'm not going to let him die." He walked past his lover and to the ambulance.

The boy closed his eyes. "Thank you."

Matthew looked at the boy. "What's your name?"

"Eric." He whispered.

"Okay. Well, Eric, don't fall asleep on me. I'll make sure you make it out okay." Matthew climbed into the ambulance and saw Tino, whose good eye went wide. He stood and helped Matthew bandage Eric's chest wound.

While they worked in the rocky truck, Matthew gritted his teeth and kept his eyes on Eric's face. He was not going to lose this boy to this war. Matthew refused to let the Germans take the life of someone so young. Not after watching Alfred have to grow up so quickly.

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**Author's note: Well random OC. Haha well, I have no clue for next chapter so just tune in! Oh, and I'm not sure they had clean up crew and junk so just assume that everything with the war from now on is made up. It's still World War Two, but in my mind. ((Can I do that? Oh well.)) Think of it like those Dear America books. How it's a real event but everyone in it is fake... so yeah :3**


	18. Hearts Aching

Chapter 16 Hearts Aching

Arthur was used to not speaking, but after living with Alfred, he found himself talking to no one. Well, he told himself he was talking to the cats, but that made him sound like a crazy cat grandma. He was even acting like Alfred. Setting something down forgetting where it was then finding it in a different place entirely. Often times, he would find Boston staring at a spot beside Arthur, but every time he looked, he just felt like he was drowning. Arthur figured that it was Boston missing Alfred beside Arthur, which triggered Arthur's own feelings.

Arthur started listening to the radio. He would listen to war broadcasts, then change it to Alfred's favorite station. It was mostly American garbage, but it filled the library.

The old ladies stopped by at least twice a day. Never the same one on the same day, but both came bearing food. In the late morning, one would bring a platter of bacon eggs and toast. In the early evening, a casserole or a hearty shepherds pie. Arthur ate out of the dishes out of respect, but after a couple of bites, he would think of how Alfred insisted on chewing with his mouth full and talking at once. Then, feeling sick, Arthur would leave the dish for the cats to finish off. In the morning, he cleaned both dishes and waited for the right woman to give the appropriate dish to.

In July, Arthur drove Alfred's blue truck three times. The first was Alfred's birthday. Then their two month anniversary. He drove the loud, blue clunker two months after Alfred left

Arthur would take the truck up north, to the empty fields. All he wanted to do was drive the truck in circles, crying for Alfred, but he was too scared. The truck was loud, but not loud enough to guide people to Arthur if there was an accident. So, instead, Arthur drove in a straight line, foot off the brake and flat on the floorboards. When he was about a hundred yards from the end of the field, he would take his foot off the gas and coast. When he stopped, he'd climb onto the roof of the truck, a basket in his hand. He'd spread a blanket, light a candle, and read from Alfred's favorite book. He only read a chapter every time he made the trip . He read out loud. When the candles burned out, he would wrap himself up in the blanket. He'd pull out the picture of Alfred from his basket, and cry to the moon.

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Alfred sighed at his meager dinner. Arthur's cooking was better than this, and that was saying something. He missed Feliciano. He sighed. Once Feliciano boasted about having a strong German at home, the captain got suspicious. Now Feliciano was in questioning, trying to explain that Ludwig was Jewish. In Feliciano's place, was a very lazy man who more often than not had a bundle of cats with him.

Leaning back in his chair, Alfred pulled out his picture of Arthur. He smiled and pulled an abandoned piece of paper to him. He borrowed a pencil from his neighbor, and began writing.

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When Francis walked into his tent, he was surprised to see a half dressed man sitting in front of Matthew. Looking closer, Francis saw that it wasn't a man, but a boy. He looked up. His eyes resembled that of a puppy, they went along charmingly with his messy, floppy golden brown hair.

Matthew looked up as well and smiled. "Welcome back. Eric, this is Francis. Francis, you remember Eric?"

"Yes. I thought he was dead." Francis said, practically glaring at the half naked boy with his lover.

"I about was. Good thing Mattie helped me." Eric smiled. Even his voice was like a puppy. Light, eager and a bit cracking. The kid hadn't even hit puberty.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Good thing Tino knew how to stop the bleeding from a chest wound." He picked up a bowl and slathered some clear goop onto Eric's pale chest. There was a puckered red line from under his ear to across his chest, ending with a rather large hole between his ribs.

"Oh yeah, how is Tino anyway?" Eric winced at the medicine touched his wound.

"Fine. Though the metal was in his eye for so long, he won't see right for the rest of his life." Matthew said, wiping his hands off.

"Oh. I'll have to tell him I'm sorry."

"I'm pretty sure he'll just be happy you can walk." Matthew smiled and grabbed clean bandages. He placed the end on Eric's side. "Hold that there." As Matthew walked around Eric, he talked to Francis. "After we got back to the emergency tent, they fixed Eric up right quick. When Eric woke up, I helped him with a bath then took him here. We barely got back. Tino gave me some salve for his wounds."

Francis was silent for a moment. "How kind." He then proceeded to take off his dirty white clothing.

"Tino is very nice. Though, Berwald is kind of scary." Eric said softly. Francis could feel his retched puppy eyes on his back.

Matthew laughed and placed a hand on Eric's head. "He doesn't like to talk in English."

"When did you find that out Matthew?" Francis asked, looking for his normal clothes.

"While Eric was sleeping. Tino told me about his wedding." Matthew looked at Francis, his eyes burning into the Frenchman's skin.

Francis grabbed his trousers and looked into Matthew's purple gaze. He smiled. Matthew wanted to marry him. He let his eyes travel to Eric. The stupid boy was looking up at Matthew, his eyes wide and his hands practically clinging to Matthew's shirt. Francis could almost see a little tail wagging out from under him.

"Did he now?" Francis got dressed and sat down on his sleeping bag.

"Yes!" Eric chirped. "Mattie told me about it when I woke up." He smiled at Matthew, who was finishing with the bandages. "It sounded very fun. Tino said his brother was kind of rude though."

"I think his brother just had mixed feelings." Matthew smiled and helped Eric into his shirt. "How do you feel?"

"Hmm... hungry, and sore." Eric said softly, buttoning up his shirt.

"Okay. I'll go see what I can get from the kitchen tent." Matthew went to Francis, and leaned down. "Will you stay here and be nice?"

Francis narrowed his ocean eyes. "I suppose"

Rolling his eyes, Matthew kissed Francis shortly. "I'll be right back." He waved at Eric and disappeared from the tent.

Eric was still smiling after Matthew left. Francis wanted to club him.

The boy turned to Francis. "How come you don't like me?"

Was he that obvious? Or was the boy that sharp? Francis sighed. "I've known Matthew since he was two. I was old enough to take care of him. We grew up in France, in a rundown orphanage. Everyone moved to Canada when the war started. They were all adopted except for Matthieu and myself. Probably because I had him hide and I was a little shit to anyone who walked in. But, when Matthieu and I were the only ones left, a woman came in to take my dear love away." Francis narrowed his eyes. "I just got Matthieu back, I don't plan on losing him to a boy like you."

Eric gulped and dug his fingers into the sleeping bag he was on. Matthew's sleeping bag. He rubbed his jaw. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way." He gave a soft smile. "To be honest, I really like Matthew, and it's obvious you love him, but.." He leaned forward. "I want to let you know that I see Matthew as a-"

"I was able to get some stew for you, Eric." Matthew said, climbing into the tent, holding a tray full of bowls. "You too, Francis." He smiled and set the tray across Eric's lap.

The boy's eyes lit up. "I'm starving!" He picked up a bowl.

"It's still army food." Francis grumbled, taking his own bowl from Matthew.

"It's better than nothing, _mon cher_." Matthew winked, then turned to Eric. "Careful, it's very-"

"Ow!" Eric dropped his bowl on the tray with a loud thud. He stuck his thumb in his mouth.

"Hot." Matthew sighed, then giggled, making Francis's blood heat up. "How did you burn your thumb?"

"Whe' nn I piket 't 'p." Eric mumbled.

"You're not supposed to stick your fingers in food." Francis said, taking a small bite delicately.

Matthew, feeling very uncomfortable, took Eric's hand from his mouth. "I-it looks fine. Just a shock probably." He sat back and stirred his food. Why was the air so thick? Why was Francis being rude? Why did Eric have to be so cute? Matthew felt his face heat up. He thought Eric was cute. In a puppy sort of way. The boy acted a lot like Alfred, maybe that was it.

"Mattie, is something wrong?"

Matthew looked up to see Eric's face curious, and Francis's glaring at Eric. "Yes. So, uhm, how old are you? You don't look old enough to be in war."

"About that..." Eric looked down at his stew. "I'm sixteen."

Francis rolled his eyes. Matthew lightly punched the Frenchman. "Then, how did you get drafted?"

"I lied. I had nothing better to do with my life... so..." He ended with a shrug.

"What about your mother?" Matthew asked.

"A drunk. She probably doesn't even remember that my older brother died."

"I'm so sorry. Did he serve as well?" Matthew had to know. He felt so concerned with the boy.

"Yes. Matri was a general and he was only twenty-five." Eric smiled at his lap. "Matri was my best friend. Even though I'm a bastard child, he raised me." His eyes clouded over. To Francis it looked like Eric had a brother complex. "I love Matri."

Matthew set his food down and crawled across the tent. He wrapped his arms tightly around Eric and held the boy closely. "I have a brother too. He flies over enemy territory everyday. I don't know if the next time I see him is when this is over, or his funeral." Francis heard the tears clogging Matthew's throat.

Eric's arms found their way around Matthew's torso and his face disappeared into the blonde's neck.

Sighing, Francis grabbed their food bowls and tray. He set them outside the tent. "Lets all get some sleep. I'm sure Eric needs some more sleep."

"Right..." Matthew pulled away and helped Francis spread out the sleeping bags. "Oh, Eric. I've been meaning to ask, how did you get wounded?"

"A man on a horse lashed his sword out at me. It was near the end so I didn't really get stepped on." He smiled and sat on the plush bag.

"Well, that's good." Matthew managed a smile and he laid in the middle if the blankets, figuring he should separate Francis and Eric.

Francis glared shortly at Eric then settled beside Matthew, wrapping his arm securely around Matthew's waist. Eric relaxed more slowly, favoring his side. When he was laying down, Matthew found that his legs were tangled together with four other legs. He sighed and set his head on Francis's chest. He whispered softly in French. "You do not have to be rude to him."

Francis huffed and replied in his native tongue. "He has a brother complex, your name is similar to his brother's. He wants to get in your pants."

Matthew giggled. "That's crazy, he's sixteen."

"So? I was horny as hell when I was his age."

Matthew laughed. Eric lifted his head. "What?"

"Ah, nothing. Francis just tickled me." Matthew pinched Francis's hand when he felt it trailing up his thigh.

"Oh... okay..." Eric settled down again, this time, his head was pillowed on Matthew's arm.

"He's just lonely." Matthew whispered, now allowing Francis to touch him.

"So am I, my dear. I haven't seen you naked all day." Francis found Matthew's ear in the dark and licked the sensitive skin.

Matthew shivered, hoping Eric was asleep. "Francis, we have someone else in here."

"He can watch."

Matthew pinched Francis hard on his chest. "No. It's not right. Tomorrow, when we're alone." He smiled against the Frenchman's chest. "I promise."

Francis sighed. "All right." Then he took a deep breath and let it out, ruffling Matthew's hair. Matthew smiled. He felt very warm wrapped up in Francis's arms and his legs wound around the others'. He yawned softly, resting his cheek against Eric's head.

"Good night, Matthieu." Francis whispered, his French wonderfully warm in Matthew's ear.

"Night..."

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The next morning brought a surprise to Arthur. While he was checking out a book for the latest elderly woman that morning (she brought him a mix of scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage) a mailman came through the door. Shrugging it off, Arthur managed a smile for the woman and took a bite of the food she brought. She giggled like a school girl and waved.

Arthur turned to the mailman. "May I help you?" He asked, setting down his fork.

"I'm looking for an Arthur Kirkland?" He said, holding an envelope.

"That is me." Arthur raised his eyebrow. What was this man doing?

"Here." He handed Arthur the envelope and smiled. "Is he your brother?"

Arthur blinked and looked at the parcel. On the front was Arthur's name and address, then Alfred's name. Arthur grinned. "He's something better than a brother. Now, if you would excuse me." Arthur shooed the man away and closed the curtains.

"Boston! York! Alfred wrote!" Arthur yelled, running upstairs.

When he burst in the room, he grinned at the cats, who were going at it, again. He also smelled roses and the sea, with a faint hint if whiskey. He blinked. Roses, he picked some up last time he was out. A rose a week without Alfred. Sea, he wasn't close to the ocean, but maybe the wind was heavier today. Whiskey? He hadn't had a drink since Alfred took him. He sniffed again. Yep, defiantly whiskey. He shrugged. Who cares? He had a letter from Alfred!

He picked up Boston, hugging the big cat to his face and chest. "It's Alfred! He wrote!" Boston seemed to understand. His eyes, glowed with stars, matching his master's perfectly and meowed, wagging his tail like a dog. Arthur scooped York up and plopped into his leather chair. He hadn't acted like this since he was in private with Alfred. He opened the letter carefully, not wanting to damage it. He cleared his throat, and read out loud to the cats.

_SURPRISE! Sorry I didn't tell you bout this Artie! I wanted to surprise you. Did I? Well I guess I'll ask when I get back cos you can't reply. Which is really dumb. Anyway, I'm alright here. Nothing is super ex...excititing yet. Right now were just waiting for orders. Feliciano got taken into questioning cos he was talkin bout Ludwig. He can be so dumb sometimes. I hope your okay! I think about you all the time. Sometimes I find myself lost in the clouds (literaly). I hope I can come home soon! It's hard to say, but I miss your cooking. And Boston. And York. And the way the library smells. And you. And the way you smell. And your hair. And your skin. And... and I just miss you Arthur. I hope you never forget I love you. I love you more than how high a plane can fly!_

_Love, Alfred F. Jones!_

Arthur sniffed. He noticed that wet marks were on the end of the letter. He let his own tears add to the collection. He didn't care about the mistakes or the American's grammar. This was the best thing Alfred could give him right now. He rubbed his eyes. "We should write back."

York just looked at him like he belonged in a loony bin. Arthur sniffled and wiped his nose. "I can give it to him when he gets back." He stood, set the paper very carefully in his desk drawer and got his own paper out.

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**Author's note: As my dear beta wrote, this was a feeling bomb. I'm sorry for torturing you all! ((If that's what you think)) buuuut... I want to know what you think of Eric! He's so fun to write. Any who, stay tuned. Next chapter will be another feeling bomb!**

***Hannah fish/DaifukuBun/Beta says: -hugs Arthur- My poor baby! D': Ahem. I think Eric is very adorable, Dear. He seems a little unstable about his brother though, and you know how I am about unstable characters. _I love_**_ **them.**_


	19. Everything Changes in Summer

**Chapter 17: Everything Changes in Summer**

Ludwig waved Antonio off that morning from inside the door. "I'll sweep today."

"No need to do that, Ludwig. We're used to the dust." Antonio smiled, watching Lovino stomp up the drive.

"I'm almost done." Ludwig shrugged. "I'll see you tonight."

Antonio sighed and smiled brightly. "You Germans and your cleaning." He laughed and waved one last time. He closed the door, leaving Ludwig home alone.

Ludwig sighed. Since Feliciano left, he had cleaned a room a day, trying to keep himself busy. He looked around and picked up a broom, finding dust on the cleaning tool. He rolled his eyes. Italians and Spaniards. He started upstairs in Feliciano's room, pushing the dirt and dust bunnies down the steep steps.

After getting half way down the stairs, he heard the front door open. Ludwig blinked. They couldn't be home yet. It was barely noon. Maybe they forgot something. "Antonio?" He called, finishing going downstairs. "Lovino?" He walked into the living room and found someone on the couch. But this someone wasn't tan with dark hair. He has pale with silver hair and glowing eyes. Ludwig froze.

This man. This man killed Gilbird. This man hurt Gilbert, and now he was back to finish off the family.

"It's nice to see you again. Ludwig. Your dear brother told me much about you. While he was delusional and screaming for help." He tilted his head and giggled, his eyes closed.

Ludwig felt bile in his throat. He stepped back, bumping the wall. "How did you...?"

"A little panda told me." The Russian stood and walked to Ludwig. "He also told me that a little Italian in Germany is under questioning for loving a German. Would you know someone?"

Ludwig gulped. Feliciano.

Feliciano. If Feliciano saw Ludwig like this, he would cry and beg Ivan to leave. Ludwig hardened his eyes. Feliciano would never beg to Ivan, Ludwig was going to make sure of that. He gripped the broom in his hand. Good thing Grandfather taught him self defense. Swiping the broom quickly, he took Ivan's feet out from under him easily.

Ludwig moved around the Russian and ran to the door. Not realizing that taking out the silver haired man was too easy. Once outside, Ludwig looked around. He saw Lovino standing by the road, his hair in his face. Antonio was staring at Ludwig in shock.

"Ludwig-!"

Before Antonio could warn Ludwig, a silent man hit the Jew swiftly in sensitive pressure points.

As Ludwig fell to the ground, it almost looked like Ivan walked out of the house and handed Lovino a small bag. The sound of coins jingling was the last thing Ludwig heard before hitting the ground.

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Antonio stared at his friend's little brother. His strong frame collapsed on the gravel. The man was a bit bigger than Antonio, but the Spanish man still saw Ludwig as a little brother.

"Thank you for your services. Here is the last of the money." Antonio turned toward the voice. The man he found was huge with gleaming hair and matching eyes. He was handing Lovino a small bag.

"Lovi...?" His throat felt clogged.

"Thank you. Now take him and leave before people see." Lovino opened the bag briefly, counting the gold coins on top.

"Yes. Yao, get the car." The Russian smiled at the small Chinese man standing silently beside Ludwig. The man bowed then walked away quickly.

"Lovino. What's going on?" Antonio snapped.

The Russian smiled like a child on Christmas morning. "You didn't tell him?"

Lovino glared, more than usual anyway. "This is none of his business."

Antonio blinked. Why didn't Lovino call the Russian a bastard? "Tell me now!"

Laughing, the Russian grabbed Ludwig by his neck. Antonio felt his heart clench. "Lovino here sold this man's life to me for you!"

"What?! Why?!" Antonio rounded on Lovino, glaring at the Italian.

Lovino looked shocked. Antonio realized that he had never been this angry with his love.

Clinging to the bag in his hand, Lovino raised his voice, "Without Feliciano bringing us food everyday, we were going to starve! I did what I had to do!"

A black car pulled up and Yao got out. "Ivan." He called softly.

"Well, I hate missing a show, but I have a Jew to bake." Ivan waved and went to the car.

Antonio looked away from Lovino and grabbed at Ludwig. "You are not taking him!"

"Yao." The man said it like an order.

Hearing Lovino gasp and swear, Antonio whirled around to see the Chinese man holding Lovino by the shoulders with a knife pressed against the Italian's neck. Antonio let go of Ludwig.

"Now. Step away from me as the boy lives, grab the Jew again and the boy will be dead before you can hold him." Ivan smiled. "Your choice."

"L-Lovino." Antonio didn't know what to do. He couldn't let his best friend's brother die, but he couldn't let Lovino die either.

"Make this choice quickly. You'll hurt Lovino's feelings." Ivan put on a fake pout.

Antonio looked at Lovino. The Italian's eyes were bright with unshed tears. He could always kidnap Ludwig back, but he could never revive Lovino from the dead. Bowing his head, Antonio stepped away from Ludwig and Ivan.

"Very good, now, Yao. Release the boy and let's go. I do believe you are in need of a reward." Ivan grinned impishly, put Ludwig in the trunk of the car and disappeared into the vehicle.

Yao was slower to follow, he pressed his mouth close to Lovino's ear. "It was a pleasure doing business with you." Stepping back, Yao went into the car.

Lovino watched the car dive off before facing Antonio. He looked up at the Spaniard. "I had to."

"What would Feliciano say?" Antonio said, looking at his feet. "What if Feliciano sold me to him?"

Lovino was silent, he looked away from Antonio, refusing to let the older man see him cry. "We were going to die."

"We were fine." Antonio shook his head and walked inside. "I believed you had a good heart somewhere under that scowl. I guess I was wrong." He closed the door softly, leaving Lovino in the sun.

Lovino sank to his knees. He felt like he had no one left. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Antonio. I'm sorry, Feliciano." He whispered, before sobbing into his hands.

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Feliciano looked up at the scary guard. He twisted his fingers together. "I told you. Ludwig is Jewish. He is in hiding."

"How do we know if you're telling the truth?" The guard glared daggers at the poor boy.

Feliciano felt his blood heat up. "I also told you that if you looked at the picture you took from me, you would see him wearing the Star of David!"

The guard narrowed his eye and picked up the picture on the table. "I don't see one."

Feliciano threw his hands in the air out of frustration. "This is a waste of time."

The guard took Feliciano roughly by his shirt, shoving his face close to Feliciano's, the little Italian could smell the man's breath. It smelt like rotted eggs and morning breath. Feliciano winced and tried to breathe through his mouth, but then he could taste the stench. Gagging and eyes stinging, Feliciano wrestled out of the man's grasp.

"Give me the picture. I'll prove he's Jewish." He said, once his air was cleaner.

Grunting, the guard handed Feliciano the picture of Ludwig.

Feliciano rolled his eyes and looked at the photo. He smiled fondly at the frozen moment of time. Ludwig had his arms around Feliciano. He had his rare smile on his face. Since Feliciano was on Ludwig's right shoulder, the Star of David was shining bright in gold on Ludwig's chest. Feliciano pointed a tan finger at the star. "See? A Nazi wouldn't be wearing one."

"That doesn't prove anything." The annoying mad said.

"I'm pretty sure I'm going to be like Lovi by the time I get out of here." Feliciano mumbled. Then he got an idea. "What if I got someone to tell you that he's Jewish?"

"And who would that be?"

"Alfred F. Jones."

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Alfred looked up and grinned. "Feli!" He jumped up and hugged the Italian. "Are you free to go now? Will you make some pasta? This food suuuucks!"

Feliciano smiled and laughed. "Not yet, I need you to tell the guard that Ludwig is indeed Jewish." He stepped back and clapped his hands together. "Pretty please?"

"Of course! Where is he?"

* * *

Alfred walked into the tent, his back straight and his uniform in order. He narrowed his sky blue eyes at the guard that held Feliciano captive. "Give me the picture."

Before the guard could actually obey orders, Alfred snatched Feliciano's photo up and glared at it, knowing full well he had to put on a good show. He looked up at the guard. "He has the star. He is no threat to us. Vargas." Turning in his heel, Alfred marched from the tent, hearing Feliciano follow closely.

"Thanks, Al." He whispered.

"No problem, but you owe me a good dinner." Alfred winked over his shoulder. "I need to gain energy for my newest mission."

"Oooh! What are you doing?"

Alfred looked to the setting sun, smiling to himself. "Im going to get the Jewish people to England."

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Miss Rosa sighed at Peters pouting face. "No matter how hard you try, he won't see you."

"Why?" Peter glared at the back of Arthur's head, the Englishman was attempting to bake the cookies Alfred had shown him.

"He had hope. That hope gave him a passageway to our world, he was able to hear and see us. Alfred gave Arthur a light in his eyes. That light made us more clear to Arthur. Now that Alfred is gone, Arthur has lost all hope. He doesn't have that light anymore. He is convinced that everything he has, is going to leave anyway. He put a barrier around himself. He doesn't see us or the fairies." Miss Rosa'a face turned sad, her roses drooping into her eyes. She whispered. "My big brother doesn't see me anymore."

Peter looked up at the girl, his sea eyes stormy. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "I'll be fine. It's not like he knows."

"Maybe we can show him."

"Maybe, Peter." She whispered.

"Or! I can go to Alfred and make sure his dumb American ass gets home!" James shouted in Arthur's ear.

Arthur looked at the ghost, blinked, rubbed his ear and went back to his work. "I must miss Alfred more than I thought. I swear I heard him yelling." He sighed. "And he's not here to criticize my cooking. Or make fun of my eyebrows."

Peter heard the threat of tears in Arthur's voice. He swallowed hard and looked at Miss Rosa. The girl nodded at James. "Go watch over Alfred, James. We can handle him. Hopefully, he'll see us soon."

James nodded then disappeared. Since he had moved everywhere when he was alive, he was able to travel great distances, while when Miss Rosa and Peter were alive, they typically stayed home.

Sitting by Arthur's feet, Peter sent out his most calming waves. "Tell me about you and Arthur again, Miss Rosa?"

The girl smiled. "We weren't very close siblings..."

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**Author's Note: I had to end it. I hate this chapter. Like from Feli, to the end, I hate. Bleh. I hate it. Anyway, hopefully next chapter will be better. Come back like, next week on Friday!**

***DaifukuBun says: I liked it, Dear!**


	20. What Now?

**Chapter 18: What now?**

Yao gazed at the German. He appeared to be sleeping on the floor, but Yao could see his chest rising and falling far too quickly for slumber. Or unconsciousness. Depends on how you look at it.

Yao looked up when he heard the door to Ivan's room open. He smiled and stood. "He is awake, aru."

Ivan patted Yao on his head, his large fingers trailing down the Chinese man's hair. "Good. I wish his brother was here. I would like to see that reunion."

Making a face, Yao folded his arms. "Is his brother still alive?"

Ivan smiled impishly and lifted Ludwig up by his shirt. "Ludwig will find out soon enough."

Ludwig raised his head and glared ice at the strange couple. "Don't talk about my brother."

Yao smiled sweetly. "He's right, Ivan, aru. We shouldn't talk about the dead." He snickered behind his hand.

"Bastard!" Ludwig shouted and lurched at Yao. His hand snapped out and grabbed the small man's long hair. Ludwig forced Yao to kneel. "Don't talk about my brother!" He bellowed, again, into Yao's face.

Yao paled and his eyes were wide. He looked up at Ivan for help, but the Russian was watching Ivan with an interested look in his eye. "You are no longer the boy who hides in boxes. You have grown. Maybe I can use you."

Ludwig glared at Ivan. "Like hell I'd listen to you."

"Your friend did. He chose Lovino over you." Ivan smiled and shoved Ludwig off Yao.

Ludwig was silent. He was sure Antonio had a reason. He clenched his jaw and dug his nails into his palms.

"Now, with you, we can go back to Germany and get my reward." Ivan looked down at Yao, whose face was a bit pouty. "You will get your reward too, dear Yao."

Smiling softly, Yao went to the door. "I will bring dinner in soon, aru." He looked at Ludwig, his soft brown eyes blazing. "Don't have too much fun. The maids take forever to clean, aru."

When the door closed, Ludwig was left alone with Ivan. His enemy. The most terrible thing in this planet. The man who killed his brother. The man who threatens Feliciano's happiness. This man was going to destroy that little Italian. It made Ludwig's heart stop. Ivan was going to kill that poor boy, through Ludwig.

Looking up, Ludwig saw Ivan reaching into his coat pocket. Ludwig clenched his teeth. _'It's a gun.'_ He thought._ 'He is going to take that gun and bury a bullet in my head.'_

"Now that my precious panda isn't here..."

_'What's a panda? Focus on the situation!'_

"I can see how much you know." Ivan pressed a gleaming silver knife against Ludwig's cheek.

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "I've been living in England for a year now. I wouldn't know anything."

Ivan tilted his wrist sharply, leaving a thin line of blood to trail down Ludwig's cheek. "You know something. I'm sure you know where some other Jews are."

Ludwig winced and closed his eyes. "The only other Jewish people I know are my brother and my grandfather."

Narrowing his eyes, Ivan dug the knife deeper into Ludwig's cheek. "Grandfather? No parents?"

Refusing to wince again, Ludwig dug his nails into his palms. "They were killed when I was young." He hated this. The stupid Russian did not need to know about his family.

"And the grandmother?"

"Died before I was born."

Ivan grit his teeth. "Grandfather?"

"Living in Germany as far as I know." Ludwig was shaking. He was giving his grandfather away.

"Hm." Ivan released the pressure on the knife. "Where?"

Lie. "On the outskirts of the city." Ludwig mumbled. He could do this.

"I see. Do you know any others?"

"No. I didn't get along with people my age." That was easy, it was the truth.

"Your brother?"

Ludwig scoffed. "Hell if I know. He was always with one person or another. First the girl named Elizabeta Hedervary, then some guy named Roderich Edelstein."

"Edelstein? That's a Jewish name, da?"

Ludwig glared at the floor boards. "Austrian."

Ivan pushed Ludwig onto his back and placed a heavy boot on his chest. "What do you know about the Edelstein guy?"

Feeling his lungs being pressed down, Ludwig started to panic. He didn't know a thing about Roderich! Wait... he's a...

"Doctor! For victims in the war! The ones who are traumatized!" Ludwig spat out. Ivan raised his boot and Ludwig gulped in stale air.

Ivan smiled childishly. "We will depart on the 'morrow. I'll have a maid lead you to your... ah... room." He turned on his heel and left Ludwig on the floor with his chest aching, his cheek stinging, and his heart breaking.

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Alfred looked at the men he was offered to go on his mission. Twenty in all. Five were from his and Matthew's original squadron, ten were his friends, four were part of his new crew, and... Feliciano. Alfred sighed. "Feli, I told you, you can't come."

"But Al! I told Artie that I would watch after you, I can't do that if you leave without me, and without me with you I wouldn't be keeping my promise to Artie and if you got hurt Artie would be upset with me and it will be all my fault!" The little Italian spit out in one breath, making the other men around him look baffled.

"I know what you promised. But you can't fly a plane, we need all twenty planes, we can't waste room for you." Alfred tried explaining.

Feliciano looked hurt. "Waste...?"

"No! Feli, I mean," Alfred sighed again. "we need as much room as possible for the Jews. With you staying here, you're helping Ludwig." He smiled. "Doesn't that sound better than going on a plane ride for hours than having to face the Krauts?"

"Oh... okay. Then I'll make you guys some lunches!" Feliciano waved happily, then ran to his cooking tent.

One of the new men looked at Alfred. "How did he get recruited?"

Alfred laughed. "He makes some awesome pasta, and he'll lead the retreat." All the men gaped at Alfred. "I'm kidding! We're going to win this! We're the heroes!" He threw his fist in the air, the others followed, shouting their agrees. "Now! Get your stuff ready, Feliciano will be heartbroken if we don't take his food so we might be here for a few more hours."

The men obeyed Alfred's orders, dispersing into groups and chatting. Alfred smiled. These were good men, and they were going to get those poor people out of their prison.

* * *

Alfred loaded the last pot of food into the smallest plane and beamed at Feliciano. "Thanks, Feli. This is going to be great."

Feliciano grinned. "Thank you, Al. Be careful. Or I'll have Ludwig put you in a wheelchair."

"What if I get hurt and put in a wheelchair in the next few hours?" Alfred smiled, pulling on his dark brown gloves.

After a moment, Feliciano replied, "I'll have him put Mattie into a wheelchair! So you won't be lonely!"

Alfred laughed. "Alright, Feli." He let Feliciano kiss both his cheeks then climbed into the plane. He hooked up his wiring system, started his plane, and gave the signal to the other pilots. Alfred grinned one last time at Feliciano then took off into the sky that resembled his eyes.

* * *

After a few hours of flying, Alfred spotted the camp in the distance. He turned the radio to his mouth and told the men to land. They will go in under the cover of night.

The crew landed swiftly, forming a blockade facing the camp to hide their camp fires. Alfred looked at the sky. "Alright. Get a pot and split it in half. Everyone gets a bowl. After you eat, clean your dishes and get some rest. We have a long night." He smiled to let the men know he wasn't trying to be bossy, even though he was the boss.

Everyone broke into groups to get dinner prepared. While his crew got to work, Alfred took out his picture of Arthur. He smiled at Arthur's soft face through the photo. Arthur had been attempting to cook again. He was wearing his frilly pink apron. Alfred had sneaked in the kitchen with Feliciano's camera. Though, Arthur heard Alfred and turned just as the photo was snapping. Arthur's green eyes were bright even through the paper, his soft, rare smile on his face.

Alfred sighed and tucked the picture away. He had a mission to complete, he couldn't get distracted.

All through dinner, all Alfred could think about was surviving. They had to hike to the camp, sneak into the camp, rescue as many people as possible, and hike back to the planes. He tried not to think about how many men, women and children will be lost, but the haunting thought came back to him constantly.

When the sun kissed the tree line, Alfred stood and pulled on his jacket. "We need to make it to the camp and get out before daybreak." He started. He watched the men stand and get their own jackets or put out the fires. He looked each one in the eye. "I'm telling you know, some if you might not come back, but I will try my hardest to bring all of you back. If I can't accomplish that, I will let your families know you went honorably." He gave a small smile and nodded. "Time to go."

"We'll do the same for you, Al." A soft voice declared. Alfred looked back but everyone was looking anywhere but at him. He grinned anyway.

"Thanks guys. Lets go." He turned and went into the trees, hearing the quiet footsteps behind him.

The hike took all of three hours. The full moon was creeping slowly into view, giving Alfred and his crew just enough light to dodge trees and large rocks. By the time they got close enough to see the fence, the moon was high above them.

Alfred crouched down and looked over the camp. Barbed-wire fence, look-out posts, tons of guards. Alfred nodded to himself and shrugged out of his jacket. "I need nine more men to come with me, the other ten wait here."

There was a moment of silence. Alfred looked over his crew. No one wanted to go into the camp. He took a deep breath. "I need the nine smallest men. I know it will be hard, but I'll get you out." He eyed the pilots he wanted to accompany him.

Shortly, the ten men went down the slightly sloping hill, staying close to the trees, but allowing themselves to be seen. In no time, a group of Nazis were surrounding them. Alfred motioned for the men to put their hands up. The guards barked at them in their rough language. Thankfully, Ludwig taught Alfred what "don't move", "hands in the air", and a few other commands are in German. Alfred only hoped that his crew follow his lead.

The Nazis took them into the camp after binding their wrists with coarse rope. Alfred lowered his head. He didn't want to, but he had to play the part. They were lead to a big tin arch-like structure. There were only high, bullet-proof windows and one door.

One by one, they were patted down and shoved into the room. Alfred watched the guards close the door, and he heard the lock click.

"Welche ist du?" A voice come from the dark.

Alfred vaguely understood what was being asked. He cleared his throat and replied in shaky, broken German, "Ich bin Alfred F. Jones. Ich bin uh...h-hierher to uh..."

"I speak English." A figure steps into the moon light. It's a man, about as tall as Alfred. The moon shining on his hair gives it a silver glow, and his eyes are so brown they seem red. The man grins. "Alfred? I'm Gilbert. Welcome to the compound."

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**Author's note: Well, guess who I didn't kill?! XD yay! Gilly! We just need Denmark an' we'll have the awesome trio! And once again, everything from here on out is my imagination, so when you're all "Hey! Nazis are more evil than that!" Just remember this is my messed up mind! We are reaching the peak of the story! VODKA! *jumps out of a plane* ((it's okay, I live in Utah, I know about snow)) this is uber long... tune in next time!**

***Hannah fish says: The whole greatest snow on Earth thing in Utah is a bunch of bull. It's just as polluted as everyone else's, if not worse because we have A LOT of refineries here. But we do know a lot about it. Tune in until next time Dears!**


	21. The One with Mixed Feelings

**Chapter 19 - The One With Mixed Feelings.**

Lovino watched Antonio walk out the door of their house. He was determined not to let the Spanish man see him cry, but his lip trembled and his eyes stung. He followed Antonio.

When the Spaniard looked back, his features were neutral. "Get in the house and don't let anyone in. I'll call out in Spanish when I get back."

He wanted to tell Antonio that he wasn't stupid, but Lovino's voice betrayed him, "Don't go." He whispered.

Antonio let out a soft sigh the wrapped his arms tightly around Lovino. "I'm taking him to Arthur's house. I'll be back before morning." He left a tender kiss on the Italian's head, then stepped into his car.

Lovino was left watching the car disappear under the moon.

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Arthur woke up with a start. Partly because of his nightmare, and the other... knocking?

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Arthur stood and grabbed Alfred's blue sweater. He tugged the soft fabric over his unruly hair and padded down his spiral staircase.

At the bottom, a waft of cool sea air and the scent of rose greeted him, along with Boston and York. York had his hair bristled into an arch while Boston was pacing the door.

"Who in the bloody hell would be here at this hour?" Arthur mumbled, stepping into his library. Then, his heart stopped. What if it was Alfred? But, what if it was a telegraph saying Alfred died. Arthur suddenly didn't want to answer the door.

After a few moments, the knocking came again and York yowled at the crack between the floorboards and the wooden door. Jumping out of his haze, Arthur made to the door. He hesitated at he handle. Taking a deep breath, he yanked it open. He found a very rumpled Ludwig, and an exhausted Antonio. Both had blood in their hair, and on their clothes.

Gasping, Arthur ushered them inside. "Whot in the blue bloody hell are you doing here at this hour?!" He said fiercely.

"Lovino sold Ludwig to Ivan." Antonio lowered Ludwig to the floor and Arthur noticed that his right ankle was twisted abnormally. "So I went in to get 'im." Antonio grinned at Arthur, then sunk to the floor. "You've gotta hide us. Before that Chinese guy tracks us down."

Ludwig looked up at Arthur, his clear blue eyes were glazed over and his left eye was swollen. A thin cut ran across his cheek. The Jew looked like hell.

Arthur ran his hands through his hair. "Alright. I'll patch you guys up in the attic." He knelt down and draped one of Ludwig's arms across his shoulders. "Come on, Antonio. Once we're upstairs, you can rest."

Antonio nodded once then got to his feet. He hauled Ludwig up and half carried half dragged the Jewish man upstairs.

Arthur took a deep breath and looked outside his door. The moon cast an eerie glow on his skin. He looked up at the sky and a smile played at his lips. The stars looked like the stars in Alfred's eyes. Arthur rubbed his arms and frowned. If he thought of Alfred now, he'd never get to sleep. Casting one last look around the street, Arthur stepped back inside his library and closed his door. After locking up, he went upstairs to the hidden room. Before going up the stairs, he slid the bookshelf closed, just in case.

Upon walking into the lighted room, Arthur retched and covered his mouth. He hadn't seen the extent of their wounds before. In the light, it looked like they had been mauled by a bear.

Antonio's lip was bleeding down his chin and dripped onto his chest. His eyebrow was spliced and bleeding into his eye and broken nose. Ludwig was probably worse. It was hard to tell, Ludwig with his swollen eye, nose and lip. His nose appeared to be broken like Antonio and it just looked like a fat lip. But his shirt was opened and a few lashing marks glared at Arthur. Ludwig's ankle was definitely broken too, which probably just made his condition twice as miserable.

"A-alright. Let me get some supplies. Boston! York!" He called, maybe the cats woulc comfort these injured men while he found something for two broken noses and an ankle.

The cats, who sneaked up the stairs with Antonio, emerged from behind the couch. York started licking Ludwig's cut on his cheek and Boston paced in front of Antonio.

Arthur ran his sweaty palms over his thin, cotton pajama pants and thumped down the steep stairs. He slipped out of the cupboard and went to his kitchen. He had a first aid kit somewhere. He let out cheek full or air and turned into the bathroom. After rummaging a bit, he found the small white box with the Red Cross on it. He spun around and ran back up the stairs. Now he needed something for Ludwig's ankle. He needed a doctor, surely. But so many people already knew Ludwig was a Jew, if anymore did, then he would surely be caught.

Arthur sighed heavily and looked at the two men. "Who's first?"

"Ludwig. He has lashing on his back and chest. Luckily I got there before he could do anymore." Antonio mumbled, leaning on the couch and petting Boston soothingly.

"Yes. Of course." Arthur knelt in front of Ludwig and pulled at his shirt. The fabric stuck to Ludwig's skin and made an awful peeling noise when Arthur pulled at it. Cringing, Arthur managed to get the shirt off completely and see just how much damage was caused to the Jew.

Not only had Ludwig only been whipped, but a vague outline of a frying pan sent suspicion tingling down his back. Who beat someone with a frying pan for heavens' sake?! Taking a deep breath, Arthur poured some alcohol onto the wounds. Ludwig hissed through his teeth and clamped his hand over York's back, making the cat hiss back at him.

"I'm so sorry Ludwig, but I have to get any grime out." Arthur murmured, and pressed a gauze to an especially nasty lashing mark. "What happened to you?" He asked. Ludwig had to stay awake. Who knew what would happen if he passed out then.

"Russian... asked for information. Cut my cheek." He shrugged, to show that the cut wasn't a big issue, even though Arthur could see the beginnings of infection on the wound. Ivan probably never cleaned the knife he used, Ludwig probably had years worth of dead blood in his face.

"What else? Antonio, will you hold him up by his underarms? Thank you." Arthur said calmly, trying to forget his shaking hands.

Ludwig's head seemed to clear now with the shocking pain in his torso. "Guess I didn't give enough information. I told them everything I could, but then the Chinese man came in with this frying pan and started yelling at me." Wincing a few times during his story, Ludwig watched Arthur wrap pristine white gauze around his chest and stomach.

"When I told him that Ivan knows everything I know, he started yelling in his language and hitting me with the pan." Ludwig gave a small, humorless laugh. "Fucking crazy."

"Yes. But, what about the lashing?" Arthur clipped the gauze together and got a cotton ball to dab at Ludwig's face.

"Well, Ivan took me to a different room and tied my hands to a wooden pole with my back facing the room. It was quiet then I heard small footsteps. They sounded like Feliciano's." Ludwig closed his eyes as Arthur swiped the alcohol cotton ball over his cheek. "But it wasn't him." He whispered, sadly. "The next thing I knew, I had fire burning across my back and some high pitched thing screaming behind me. I didn't know what to do. So I sat there and tried not to think about what was going on."

"I'm so sorry Ludwig." Arthur whispered. He leaned in to get a closer look at Ludwig's wounded cheek and saw it was already festering into a sickly yellow. He went back to his medical box and retrieved the antibiotics. He rubbed some of the cream across the infected cut and placed a bandage over it.

"So, what about your ankle, black eye and fat lip?" Arthur continued. He stood and went to the sink with yet another gauze.

"Antonio got me out of the room and we went up the stairs. A floorboard was loose and I tripped. The black eye was from Ivan trying to stop us. Fat lip from him to."

"I see." Arthur breathed and crawled down to Ludwig's ankle. It was swollen and bruised and still in it's odd angle. "I can't fix this." He whispered to himself as he wrung his fingers. He looked at Antonio.

"Don't you have a doctor you can trust?" The Spaniard asks.

"The only doctor I know is Doctor Edelstein. And he's a psychiatrist."

"Edelstein?" Ludwig asks. "I know him. Go get him. He can help."

"Uh..." Arthur gave a single nod then started to bandage Antonio. "I hope he doesn't mind me coming so late."

"Tell him it's me. He'll come." Then Ludwig settled down on the floor and fell into an exhausted sleep.

Antonio stared at the floor beside him before whispering, "What do I do about Lovi?"

Arthur thought for a moment. "He needs to know that what he did was wrong."

"He is not a child though, Arthur."

"You're right. But how else can you treat this situation without hurting someone? When Feliciano comes back and sees Ludwig with scars, he's going to ask questions. Of course Ludwig will tell Feliciano what Lovino did. Feliciano will be hurt then he'll confront Lovino. Those two boys are going to get hurt. And so might you and Ludwig." Talking about these two couples made Arthur feel extremely lonely. He felt a wave of cool sea air with the hint of roses and he suddenly felt calm and loved. He looked up at Antonio. "You need to punish Lovino in someway. I know he is not a child, but he is still young. A good stern talk and a tough love thing for a while should work."

Antonio was silent for a moment. "Maybe you're right." He lifted his bottom off the floor and moved to a more comfy spot. "I'll sleep on it. Go get that Edelstein guy and I'll watch over Ludwig."

"Alright. I'll be right back." Arthur packed up his medical box and left it on the coffee table. He walked down the stairs and quickly pulled on his slacks and shoes.

He pulled Alfred's sweater over his thumbs and stepped outside. He locked to door behind him and went to Alfred's truck. Roderich and Elisabeta lived on the outskirts of London. It was going to be a long drive, and a long night for Ludwig.

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Matthew looked over his shoulder and saw Eric's brown head bobbing behind him. Smiling, Matthew looked forward again and set the gas can beside Francis's truck. "Francis! We brought the fuel!"

The Frenchman's head poked out from the enclosed bed of the truck, his golden hair pulled up into a ribbon. "Wonderful. Why don't you two get some lunch and I'll join you shortly?" He smiled at Matthew, and narrowed his eyes at Eric, who stood silently beside Matthew.

"Why don't you come now? You've been in that truck all day!" Matthew went to Francis and boosted himself on the bumper, his face reaching up close to Francis's. "Please?" He puckered his lips a bit.

Francis smiled and kissed Matthew quickly. "Alright, alright. Give me a couple minutes."

Matthew gave a short nod and dropped from the truck. He faced Eric. "Lets go save a spot in line for Francis." He said and started walking to the mess hall tent.

"Okay." Eric said and followed Matthew closely.

All in all, Matthew didn't mind having Eric follow him. It was like having a little brother.

...

Or a pet dog. Either way, Matthew thought it was cute and he was glad Eric adored him so much. After being in Alfred's shadow and being called Richard for years, Matthew was pleased to have a lover and a... well... little lover. It made his heart feel warm and he felt a little less invisible.

The pair walked into the tent, and Eric grinned and shook Matthew's arm. "Tino and Berwald are in here!"

It was hard to believe that this boy was only sixteen. Matthew smiled and went to Tino and his... husband.

Hearing their boots on the rocky floor, Tino turned around and grinned. His right eye was heavily bandaged. "Mattie and Eric!" He sing-songed and hugged Eric. "How do you feel?"

"Better. Mattie says it'll scar, but I'll heal just fine." Eric smiled and hugged Tino briefly before letting go and moving closer to Matthew.

"How's your eye, Tino?" Matthew asked, pouting a little. He noticed that Berwald's eyes seemed to harden and his hand found its way to Tino's back.

"It's fine. I'll need an eyepatch after the bandages for a few weeks, but I should be able to see." Tino explained, setting his hand on Berwald's arm and smiling. "Where's Francis?"

Matthew sighed. "Playing in his truck. He's being so childish."

Tino blinked his large brown eyes. "How come?"

Covering Eric's ears, even though he was sixteen, Matthew whispered, "Since Eric has been sleeping in our tent, we haven't been able to... you know." He made a vague gesture at his bottom half.

Tino laughed and patted Matthew's shoulder. "Then let Berwald and I watch him tonight. Berwald doesn't mind, right?" Tino turned his innocent brown gaze onto the Swede and batted his long lashes.

"No 'f c'rs n't" Berwald replied, the faintest smile aimed at Tino.

Matthew smiled and dropped his hands from Eric's ears. "Thank you so much, Tino."

"Why are we thanking Tino?" Said a silky voice in Matthew's ear.

Pushing away goosebumps, Matthew smiled up at Francis. "Eric is gonna sleep over at Tino's tonight." He said softly and placed his arm around Francis's waist, locking himself to the Frenchman.

"Why am I going to Tino's?" Eric asked, his puppy brown eyes confused. He then blushed and looked at Tino. "I don't mean that I don't want to! I-I just... I want to know why..." His ears tinged pink and he lowered his head.

Eric's head snapped up seconds after bowing it at the sound of a squeal and arms around his neck. "I want to keep him!" Tino shouted. Berwald's jaw clenched. "He'd make the cutest little boy! Just like Peter!" Berwald's jaw relaxed and his eyes clouded over.

Matthew noticed the slight change and felt something tug at the back of his mind. Peter...? Where had he heard that before? Matthew's stomach churned and he felt uneasy, until he heard the most carefree laugh since leaving London.

Unable to stop himself, Matthew pulled away from Francis and looked around wildly. Why was Alfred here? Then he heard it again, behind him. Turning, Matthew saw Eric laughing under Tino's hug. Eric laughed like Alfred. Matthew dug his hands into Francis's arm and watched the boy, praying that he would make it home. With Tino.

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After a rather bland lunch, Francis instructed Matthew and Eric to bring fresh medical supplies to the truck. Matthew tried to ignore the tingling in his stomach every time Francis looked at him, but the look only made him want the sun to go down sooner.

Eric, following Matthew to the medical tent, asked suddenly, "Why are you getting rid of me?"

Matthew stopped and looked back at the boy. "E-excuse me?"

"Hands don't make very good ear plugs, Mattie." He puffed his cheeks out into a pout and Matthew felt a tug on his heart. This boy was going to kill him. Good thing his eyes were brown.

"It's just for one night, Eric." Matthew smiled and patted the boy on his head. His hair felt soft and velvety, like a dog's ears. "Francis and I need some alone time." He lowered his voice and looked around obviously. Eric copied him then leaned in close. "Between me and you, Francis can get a little up-tight when he doesn't get me to himself sometimes. It's annoying, but endearing." Matthew smiled then continued walking.

A couple steps passed before Eric spoke up again. "Matri said that about me a lot..."

Not looking back, Matthew grabbed Eric's hand and squoze it gently. "So does my brother."

"Where is he?"

Matthew was silent for a moment. "I don't know."

They retrieved the supplies and made their way back to the truck. Matthew could see Francis standing beside a man. They were looking at a map and pointing around themselves. Then the other man pointed to a spot in front of Matthew and Eric.

Matthew stopped. "Hold on Eric. Come back."

Sensing a different tone in the Canadian's usually soft voice, Eric stepped behind the older boy and whispered, "What is it?"

Scanning the field and the sky, Matthew worried his bottom lip. The camp had moved closer earlier that day, hoping to push the enemy back. They had yet to scan the area, but Francis and the man seemed to be doing it now.

Eric startled behind Matthew when the planes came overhead. While Matthew dropped his box of supplies and pushed Eric towards the nearest tent. The planes roared over them. Matthew didn't know what side they were on, but they vibrated the ground. It made the trucks and boxes shift. An explosion went off to Matthew's left. He fell to his knees and covered his eyes too late. Shrapnel and dirt stung the sensitive organ.

Matthew raised his head from his hands, he could still see Francis's golden hair. "Find Tino!" Matthew yelled before he stood and ran to Francis. He didn't look back to see if Eric listened to him.

"Francis! Land mines!" Matthew shouted, stumbling over rocks.

"No! Mathieu! Stop!" Francis saw his lover running toward him. Right into the threat he was warning Francis about.

Matthew skidded to a stop. The rocks underneath him made his feet slide out from under him.

Francis watched as Matthew disappeared in a cloud of dust and smoke.

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**Author's note: YOU MUST READ THIS, but you can stop once you figure out who I'm talking to. But before that, I hope you... enjoyed ((?!)) this... depressing... chapter... don't hate me for not writing about Antonio and Ludwig... I like... hate writing about action scenes like that... but I hope I made up for that with Mattie and his... accident...*sob* So...two reviewers don't have the reply thing... so Apela and Mudcat, keep reading!**  
**Apela: I'm sorry it took so long to answer this! V.V I kept forgetting... any who thanks for the review! And yes, they are oversexed kitties. And yes, ghosts can cause problems while these cats don't give a shit like honey badger. Keep reading!**  
**Mudcat: I couldn't let the king of awesome die! That would be awful of me. Thanks for the review! I hope you stick around to see what happens to Gilbert and Alfred!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 20 Close Calls**

Francis's heart stopped, then dropped into his stomach. He ran to where Matthew was before the smoke had even cleared. He didn't care about the possible threat of land mines. He needed to get to Matthew.

He heard nothing in the smoke besides the other men's shouts. The dust eventually settled and he saw a still form a few feet in front of him. He ran to it without a second thought. He dropped to his knees and grabbed what felt like shoulders. "Mathieu!" Francis shouted, and held the Canadian close to his body.

Why did Matthew feel so light? Francis looked down and saw that both of Matthew's legs were missing. The remains of his trousers were smoking and the air smelt like burnt skin. Francis didn't care. He wrapped his arms more securely around Matthew and picked him up with ease. He then ran to the medical tent.

Francis could see the white tent looming in front of him, but it looked so far away. Matthew felt to limp in his arms, too light. What else had the bomb hit on his fragile body? Francis didn't notice Tino holding Eric in his arms as he ran by.

Bursting into the tent without a care for anyone else, Francis went straight to the doctor and all but yelled in his face. "You save him or we'll be a doctor short!"

The doctor gave Francis a look, then his gaze fell to Matthew. He nodded. "Yes sir." He mumbled and grabbed Matthew from Francis, who resisted. "You need to let go."

Reluctantly, Francis released his hold on Matthew and watched the doctor lay him on a bed. Nurses pulled a curtain around them. Francis caught a flash of purple as the curtains closed. The violet screamed at Francis to come to him, but all Francis could do, was walk away and wait for the worst to happen.

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When Arthur got back to his library with Dr. Edelstein and Elizabeta in tow, Ludwig looked awful. He had caught a fever and his ankle was twice the size it should be. Antonio had draped a wet cloth over the Jewish man's forehead, but sweat glistened on his pale neck.

Roderich took in the scene silently, then he turned to Arthur. "I'm not this kind of doctor, Arthur. I can't help." He said softly.

Antonio let out a shaky breath. "Please. He's like my brother."

Elizabeta stepped forward and placed a hand on her husband's arm. "Roderich, doesn't he look like that one boyfriend you used to have?"

Roderich's ears turned pink and he glared at his wife. "We do not speak of Gilbert."

Antonio's head snapped to the couple. "Gilbert! This is his brother! I'm Antonio! I think I remember you!"

"Oh! I told you, Roddy!" Elizabeta said and swatted Roderich on his arm. She then knelt down beside Ludwig and Antonio. "Don't worry, I know a thing or two." She smiled and winked. "Now, Antonio, Arthur. Will you find me some cloth strips? Roderich, find me two planks of wood."

The men, shocked by the assertive way this woman talked, moved to do what she said quickly.

A couple minutes later, Elizabeta had Ludwig propped against the couch and was wrapping his ankle in the make-shift splint.

"Where did you learn this?" asked Arthur, setting down a tray of tea and the cookies he made the other day. Sadly, they didn't turn out like Alfred's, but they tasted just as good.

Elizabeta looked up and smiled from Ludwig's dozing side. "Gilbert, actually."

"Ludwig told me about him. Were you close to him as well?" Arthur handed a teacup to Roderich who was perched on the old leather chair in the corner.

"We were best friends when we were little. We used to torment Ludwig here." Her smile softened. "These two dumbasses were the closest thing I had to a family at that time." She draped a blanket across Ludwig's legs then went and sat on Roderich's knee, earning a smile from the doctor. "But that was before Roddy took me in."

Arthur smiled sadly at the married couple and and handed Antonio a cup who was sitting next to Ludwig. "I'm sorry you don't know what happened to him. From what I hear, he was a brave man and a good brother."

Antonio laughed. "Yeah. He sure was when he wanted to be! One time, Ludwig was playing with the dogs, he was about seven, and Gilbert took a hunk of meat and tied it to Ludwig's waist! The dogs chased him all over the field! It was hilarious."

Elizabeta giggled. "I remember seeing that! I was ten and Gilbert still thought I was a boy."

Arthur sloped his head to the side. "How could anyone think you are a boy?"

Upon seeing Elizabeta blush and laugh behind her hand, Arthur explained further. "I wasn't looking _there_ I just mean that you are very pretty and shouldn't be mistaken for a boy is all!" Arthur looked down into his tea.

Still giggling behind her hand, Elizabeta shook her head. "I wasn't a very girly girl when I was young. If you told me when I was ten that I would be married and wear a dress every day, I would have punched you in the face." She lowered her hand and smiled sweetly. "But I'm glad Roderich turned me into a proper woman."

"Even though you still play in the dirt." Roderich said, smiling fondly and the bubbly woman in his lap.

"It's called gardening." Eli rolled her eyes.

"Gilbert called that, 'Find the biggest potato and throw it at Ludwig.'" Said a soft voice behind the chatting group.

Elizabeta stood and went to Ludwig. "Long time no see, Squirt." She smiled and knelt down, very much like a boy, in a crouching position.

Ludwig smiled weakly and rearranged his limbs on the hard floor. "You're wearing a dress."

"Yup! And I have more at home." She winked then looked at Antonio. "Will you lift him onto the couch?" She swiveled to Arthur. "Will you get a small pillow?"

"Yes. I'll be right back." Arthur stood and went down the steep stairs.

Arthur saw the sun peeking through his curtain. He hadn't slept all night. His stomach was full and Alfred's sweater was warm. All he wanted to do was curl up with the cats and nap until the afternoon. When the mailman would come and bring Alfred's latest letter.

Arthur's desk was already overflowing with Alfred's papers and Arthur's response letters. Arthur would have to reorganize them and keep them in a file of sorts.

He sighed heavily and sat on his bed. Alfred's side of the bed. It had been so long, the sheets started to smell like Arthur and cat again. Tears pricked Arthur's eyes. Everything of Alfred was slowly disappearing. How long until Alfred forgot to write a letter? How long until Boston forgot he had any owner besides Arthur? How long until Alfred's sweater and truck became Arthur's?

Arthur lowered his head into his hands. He didn't want to cry, but his body yearned to. Why did he feel so empty? Didn't he used to have people to talk to? Ones only he could see? What happened to them? Did they vanish, much like Alfred, too?

Tears fought their way out of Arthur's eyes. He pressed his open palms against his temples, his fingers combing into his disheveled hair. His lips started to talk, but no words came out. He didn't even know what he was supposed to be saying, all he knew that it was too painful for him to hear or make sense of.

* * *

Miss Rosa held Peter's hand tightly. "What is he saying?"

"I think he's talking to us, Peter, but he doesn't know it." Miss Rosa tilted her head, her hat sliding a bit in its ghostly state. "He says, 'Why did Alfred have to go? I'm so alone here. What happened to those people I used to talk to? I used to have friends. Didn't I? I wasn't alone in this library. Without Alfred...without...'" Miss Rosa stopped and frowned. "His brain is trying to remember us, but his heart is too sad."

Peter let go of Miss Rosa's hand and walked silently over to Arthur. He set his see-through hand on the Brit's shoulder and smiled. "James is helping Al. It's okay." He whispered.

Arthur looked up sharply. "Who's there?" He looked around, then stood. Shaking his head, he wiped his eyes, grabbed a pillow and padded up the stairs. Leaving Peter and Miss Rosa alone, yet again.

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Alfred threw the rock as hard as he could. It clinked against the window, widening the crack. He looked to the little girl, Violet, who was holding the biggest rocks she could find in her skirt. Alfred smiled and knelt down. "Got another one for me?"

The little girl grinned, revealing a missing tooth, her blue-violet eyes dancing under the full moon. "Yup! I think this one the this one will finish it!" She handed Alfred two rocks and pointed to what one should go first.

"Alright." Alfred set a hand on the girls head for a moment then took aim with the first rock. He threw it smoothly and a couple shards of glass came tinkling down. Alfred grinned and nodded at Violet, then looked around the tin room for Gilbert.

The Jewish man was organizing his people. He had children up front, ten to eighteen had to leave their parents behind them. But those kids under ten were with their parents, so a lucky few older kids were still with their moms and dads because of their younger siblings. Next came the women who were childless or whose child was over ten. Then the men. The elderly opted for the back of the group, saying that they had lived a good life. Alfred's men were serving small cupfuls of Feliciano's food and water.

Alfred whistled and Gilbert came jogging over. "What is it, Al?" He asked, ruffling Violet's hair.

"They ready? Violet says this rock is gonna get us out." Alfred grinned and juggled the rock in his hands.

Gilbert laughed softly. "Yeah. They're ready when you are."

"Alright." Alfred stepped forward and cleared his throat. Everyone immediately stopped moving and got very quiet, even though they were almost silent in the first place. Alfred raised his head high. "It's time to go. You must be silent. Do not shove or fight. We will get every single one of you out. We are going to have four men go to the roof. Two ropes will be let down. Two children under ten with one adult per rope. If you're ten to fourteen, two per rope. Anything older than fifteen, one per rope." He scanned the room and saw some kids who were skin and bone. His heart about broke. He swallowed down the sudden dryness of his throat. "Exceptions are as follow: if you can see your ribs without trying, four of you per rope. Or two skinny and two relatively healthy. Or one and three." He felt bad saying this, but it was the truth. "Do the math and partner up. Elderly, two per rope. Alright. Get into your groups and when I call your general group, step forward." He nodded at his four strongest men.

He then looked at Violet. "Here we go." He grinned and the little girl giggled in anticipation. Alfred heaved his arm back and threw the rock in a smooth ark. The stone hit the glass right on the mark and the window came tumbling down. Alfred turned and crouched over Violet, protecting the girl from the shards.

When he was sure that the glass was on the floor, Alfred stood. "Go find your parents" he said to Violet, but she stood there. Alfred repeated himself, more firmly, but the girl shook he head.

"They were taken the other day. I don't know where they are." She said, her eyes swimming.

Alfred swallowed thickly. Those darn tears. He knelt down and smiled. "Then I'll make sure you get to England. And you can find a new mommy and daddy. 'Kay?" The girl smiled nodded. "Alright." Alfred stood and gestured to his men. "Stay low and watch for Nazis." The men nodded and swung their rope and hook onto the window. The four men climbed easily up.

"Alright! Children ten and under with parents! If you have a group, line here." Alfred pointed to his right. "If you have an incomplete group, over there." A point to the left.

Alfred waited for everyone to move, but when no one did, he looked at Gilbert. "What's wrong?"

Gilbert grinned. "Only Violet and I speak English. Hold on." Gilbert turned to the group of people then started speaking in German.

"Oh... right." Alfred mumbled and heard Violet giggle behind him.

Gilbert turned to Alfred as the first group split up. "They're ready."

"Alright. Let's do this!" He grinned and went to the first group. He counted out people and pointed them to the ropes. "Gilbert, tell them to wait on the dark side of the building until we get out." Gilbert translated quickly and helped Alfred secure children and adults to the ropes. Alfred gave the ropes a tug to signal that they were loaded and ready. The first two groups went up easily.

As the ropes dropped back down, Alfred counted out two more groups. Gilbert looked at Violet, then whispered to Alfred, "What about her?"

Alfred grinned. "She's mine."

Gilbert nodded in understanding and signaled to the people above.

It took about an hour until everyone was out of the building. Alfred took one last look around then picked up Violet. "Let's go." He said to her and Gilbert.

Once outside, Alfred looked at the moon. It was higher than the mountains. They would have to move fast. Rest at dawn. He faced the crowd. "It's going to be a long night." He started quietly. "But you will be free by morning."

Gilbert translated quickly, a huge grin on his face. Everyone exchanged excited, nervous smiles and hand squeezes. Then Gilbert turned to Alfred. "Lead the way."

Alfred grinned and set Violet on his back, the girl weighed less than his fifty pound backpack. He picked up yet another rock and hurled it in the opposite direction of where they needed to go. There was a loud clank then shouts from the Nazis. As the soldiers ran past the large group, Alfred sent his own men forward. Everyone stayed packed together in their groups. One American or Englishman with each bundle of Jews. Alfred, Gilbert, Violet and a small group of elderly were left.

Gilbert looped his arms around four old women and helped them forward. Violet held tightly to an old man and followed Gilbert's lead. Alfred smiled at one of the youngest old men here and offered his arm.

The old man waved a hand and raised a beautifully carved walking stick. "I'm fine wit dis boy." He said, but walked closely to Alfred.

Alfred shrugged and let the old man do what he wanted. He noticed that the old man kept looking at him. Alfred finally asked, "Is there something wrong?"

The man grinned, showing off crooked teeth. "You look like my son. Got 'imself outta here tho. I couldn' do nothin' but stay at da house. Glad 'e got out tho." He whacked his walking stick on Alfred's head. "'N I tink yer dumb fer tryin' ta save 'n ol' man like m'self."

Alfred held his head and bit his tongue to keep from yelling out. When he recovered, he still held his head, cowling poking up from between his fingers. "Sorry. I don't like letting people down." The man grunted.

When they got to the barbwire fence, Alfred did a quick head count then looked at Gilbert. "How many do we have?"

"Thirty counting us and your men." Replied the silver-haired man.

Alfred nodded and stepped up to the fence. "Okay. I'm going to hold this open, go in groups and follow my men." Alfred said to Gilbert, then he looked for his fastest man and motioned for him to go through.

After Gilbert had translated, the groups followed after Alfred's man. Once Gilbert had helped an old woman through the fence, Alfred counted who was left. It was him, Gilbert, Violet and the old man. "Come on you geezer, it's time to go."

But the old man shook his head. "Dis is where I stop, m' boy." He whacked Gilbert on his knees with his walking stick. "Get dat dere gir' to safety, ya here?"

Gilbert winced then set Violet on the other side of the fence, mumbling, "Fucking crazy old people. Hits me more than my grandpa."

Alfred looked at the old man once again. "Why?"

"Ya fru da rock. Dey be lookin' fr somebuddy, right?" He grinned again, "Might as well be an ol' timer like me self." He thumped his cane against Alfred's chest. "Ye jus' worry bout gettin' home to dat lil' lady a-yers."

Alfred smiled and slipped through the fence. "I promise to get back to _him_ safely."

The old man nodded and held his hand out. "Da name is Hermann."

Alfred was about to reply with his own name, but Hermann interrupted. "Dun tell me. I can't give ya away if I don't know who ya 're."

"Right." Alfred grinned and waved. "See ya on the other side." He said, and watched the old man hobble in the other direction.

Alfred jogged to catch up with everyone. After a head count, he clapped his hands. "Stay close. Don't wander. Don't push, shove or shout. We'll go at a steady pace and stop right before sunrise." He waited for Gilbert to translate then looked at his men. "Two in front and back. Three on each side." Everyone started to shuffle into order and Alfred fell back with Violet and Gilbert at his side.

As they started walking, Alfred started getting queasy. This was too easy. He looked at Gilbert and saw that his eyes were darting all around. "You feel it too?" Alfred asked, lifting Violet over a log.

"Yeah. Something is coming." Gilbert whispered.

"A storm."

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When dawn was an hour away, Alfred stopped and told everyone to make camp. Each person got another small bowl of food and water. Soon, everyone was asleep besides Alfred, who held Violet's sleeping form in his lap, and Gilbert.

They were sitting in companionable silence. Suddenly, Gilbert asked, "You seem really determined to make it out alive. Is someone waiting for you?"

Alfred smiled at the fire and nodded. "Yeah. And I promised a friend to try and free some captives."

Gilbert grinned. "Who's waitin' for ya?"

Laughing under his breath, Alfred rummaged in his pocket and pulled out Arthur's picture. "Him."

Gilbert leant over and looked at the photo. He smiled. "I had one of those to. But he decided to go after a girl I thought was a dude."

Alfred laughed, then quickly covered his mouth, not wanting to wake Violet. "How did you not know she was a girl?"

"She had no tits 'til we were like fourteen." Gilbert shrugged. Alfred punched his shoulder.

"Don't talk like that. Violet shouldn't learn that kind of language."

"She's sleeping!"

"It's no way for a gentleman to talk!" Alfred said, then felt a sharp pang in his gut. He sounded like Arthur. Alfred sighed and settled more comfortably against the rock he was leaning on.

They had stopped in a small clearing. Trees and boulders surrounded them so they could have fires. The moon was going down quickly and it was really cold. Alfred's men had given their jackets to mothers, children and the elderly. Those without jackets were huddled under any extra cloth. Alfred had given his jacket to a pair of twins and a mother. When he did, Violet had looked at him like she didn't matter. But Alfred kept her warm with his body heat and the fire crackling close to their legs.

"So, why do you keep that picture if everyone hates gays?" Gilbert whispered after some time.

Alfred smiled fondly at the photo he managed to sneak of Arthur. He turned to the Jew beside him. "This is my lucky charm."

Gilbert's eyes glinted in the firelight, making them look red. "What do you know about him? Is he awesome?"

"He is very awesome. What do I know about him? Well..." Alfred leant back and smiled at the stars. "He was born July seventeenth. His favorite color is green. And he likes to argue. His sister was beautiful, judging from the photographs. From what I've seen, he has his fathers eyes. He never lets anyone see him cry, except for me of course." He sighed, watching a star shoot across the sky, wondering if Arthur would see it. "He'll never tell anyone that he learned to drive a truck. He's my first thought when I wake up, the last thing I think when I fall asleep, and he is in my dreams."

The fire sparked, letting Alfred see all the other runaways, fast asleep, amongst his crew. He looked at Gilbert and noticed that he had a scar on his cheek. "Do you love him?"

Alfred smiled and rubbed his thumb over Arthur's cheek on the photo. "Yes."

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Arthur raised his cheek from Boston's head. He was sitting on Alfred's truck. He didn't go anywhere that night. He just wanted to sit. So he grabbed a blanket and his cats and climbed to the roof of the truck.

He had felt a tingling in his stomach and when he looked up, he saw a shooting star. "I wish Alfred will come home soon." He whispered between numb lips.

**Author's note: I wrote from Alfred saying that his photo is a lucky charm, to the second to last break September 8th. Lol I couldn't let the idea get away from me! The song I used for this part is I'd lie by Taylor swift. Don't hate me for listening to it. I just think it fits like extremely well. So there. And if the escape part seemed really easy and simple, may I remind you, from here on out is my imagination with history as a backdrop so I don't want people telling me, "That doesn't happen." Mmkay?**

**MUDCAT! Read on.  
Thanks for the review! I know, I'm like, trying to figure out how to make everything better an just gah. Keep reviewing and next chapter I hope will ease((maybe)) some worries!**

**Well... Thanks Hannah-Fish!**

***Hannah-Fish says: You're welcome, Seme.**


	23. Heart Rivals Over Body

**Chapter 21 Heart Rivals Over Body**

Tino finished his braid then set the ring of flowers on Eric's head. The boy laughed softly and looked at his own ring of flowers. Or... pile of flowers. Eric couldn't twist his fingers like Tino.

"You're almost there, Eric." Tino said softly then leaned against Berwald's knee.

The trio was sitting outside the medical tent. The doctors hadn't allowed them to see Matthew yet, though they could hear the some murmur of the Canadian's voice.

"I hope we can see him soon." Eric said, trying to braid another set of stems.

"Me too." Tino said and leant into Eric to show him the correct movements.

Francis suddenly turned the corner, a small dust cloud behind him. "Can I go in?" He called into the tent.

There was a sound that sounded like a sob then doctor called, "Tino only, he said."

Tino blinked. Why did Matthew want him? But he let Berwald help him up and he brushed off his trousers as he walked into the tent.

Francis watched Tino walk into the tent then started pacing in front of the door.

Eric looked away from Francis then settled against Berwald's knees.

After a few minutes, Tino emerged from the tent and grabbed Francis by his shoulders. Tino's brown eyes hardened and he said slowly, "He is very nervous of how you are going to react. He knows that you love to..." He glanced at Eric then lowered his voice. "Do _those_ things and that you get grumpy and anxious. He also told me that you call him beautiful and treat him like royalty. He doesn't want anything to change."

"What are you saying?" Francis narrowed his sea blue eyes.

"Matthew doesn't want you to see him any differently. He's been able to have visitors all day, but he's been crying all day. He's scared of how you'll see him."

"I love him." Francis growled. "In any way shape or form."

"Prove that to him." Tino spat back, his voice low and threatening.

Francis glared at Tino them walked briskly into the medical tent. "Mathieu?" He heard a soft noise and followed it. He pushed aside a curtain and saw Matthew curled on his side. "Mathieu." Francis said softly and sat by his trembling lover.

Matthew buried his face in the pillow. His shoulders started shaking. "D-don't... don't leave me."

"Why would I leave you?" Francis asked and lifted Matthew from his pillow.

The Canadian wriggled away from Francis's hands and hugged himself. Francis was able to look at Matthew's face. His cheek was covered in a bandage and he was squinting at Francis.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" Francis asked, touching Matthew's uninsured cheek.

"I can't see.." Matthew whispered.

"Oh... Mathieu." Francis pulled the younger man into his arms and hugged him close. Not a good thing to do. Matthew burst into tears and pushed against Francis.

"P-please! I'm awful!" Matthew all but shouted.

Francis leaned back far enough to hold Matthew's face. "Why would you think that?" Matthew was crying freely now, his violet eyes shimmering with tears. "Y-you prefer things to be p-perfect. Wh-when we were little... I tried so hard. I tried to be just like y-you. I grew my hair out. I-I walked like y-you. I l-learned French. W-we were perfect. You said so. Perfect for each other a-and in every way. N-now..." Matthew let out a sob and dug his fingers into Francis's shoulders and the Frenchman had to resist the urge to make his love stop crying. He had to hear this. Matthew took a deep shaky breath. "Now I-I'm... I'm..." Matthew crumbled in on himself, trying to bring his knees to his chest, but he just fell over. That's when Francis saw the heavily bandaged thighs. What was left of Matthew's legs. Two thighs that had a small ring of bloody bandage on the bottom.

Francis felt his heart stop, then tears jumped to his eyes and his breath caught in his throat. His Matthew was... he was... not the same. "Matthieu. Come here." Francis whispered and pushed his hand under Matthew's bottom and around his shoulders. He lifted the Canadian easily and hugged him to his chest. "You can never be imperfect. In any way. This doesn't mean a thing to me. You're still Matthieu, you're still in my heart, you're still beautiful and I still love you." Francis murmured in his love's ear.

Sobs shook Matthew's frame. He clung to Francis and wailed into his neck. All Francis could do was rock Matthew and try not to cry himself.

Suddenly Matthew looked up, he squinted a bit then kissed Francis's nose. Then fresh tears ran down Matthew's face. "K-kiss me. I... I can't see you."

Francis smiled softly then kissed the man in his arms. Matthew kissed back and his sobs reduced to hiccups. Francis pulled back. "Want me to bring everyone else in?"

Matthew chewed his lip. "Hold me and cover my le-... uh.." His eyes gave away how sad and lost he was.

"I'll put a blanket over your lap." Francis whispered and sat on the bed.

Matthew hiccuped and to set his head on Francis's shoulder, but he missed and fell back. Luckily, Francis still had his arm around Matthew's shoulders and was able to lead his head gently to his chest. After spreading the blanket over Matthew's lap, Francis called Eric, Berwald and Tino in.

Tino lead the trio to Matthew's bed and smiled, his mother-like brown eyes filled with sympathy. "Hey, Mattie. I'm glad to see you're awake." He knelt down and kissed Matthew's blonde head.

Matthew gave his thanks as Eric stepped forward, his puppy eyes wide with worry and his hands behind his back. Matthew hiccuped again then smiled softly. "What do you have, Eric?"

The younger boy looked at Berwald who gave him a small nudge. Eric took a step forward then pulled out a sloppily-made crown of flowers from behind his back. Matthew felt a genuine smile tug his lips. "Is that for me?"

Eric nodded and looked down. "It's not... that good. Tino tried to show me, but I couldn't twist my fingers the right way." he said sheepishly.

Matthew looked at Tino, who was leaning on Berwald and watching Eric with a mother's gaze. Returning his eyes back to Eric, Matthew smiled. "It's perfect, Eric. Thank you." Matthew leaned forward and grabbed the flowers.

Francis glared at himself. How come he didn't get Matthew some flowers but this damn punk did? Matthew looked up at Francis and whispered. "What do they look like?"

"They're white, yellow and green." Francis said softly, stroking Matthew's hair.

"Can't you see it?" Eric asked, stepping back into Tino's and Berwald's chests.

Matthew looked down into his lap and rubbed his fingers over what he assumed was a leaf and shook his head.

Tino felt that Matthew was very uncomfortable and grinned. "That means you can have a handsome pair of glasses like Berwald!" The man used as an example grunted.

Matthew looked up at the trio, only seeing two blobs of yellow and one blob of yellow brown. He tried on a smile. "Yeah."

Francis hugged Matthew. "I think it'll make your eyes look even more amazing."

Eric smiled and looked down. "Matri wore glasses."

Everyone was silent, then Francis said. "Tino, I would like to speak to you and Berwald." He glanced at Eric. "The four of us."

Tino blinked. "Uhm, sure." He leaned over Eric's shoulder. "Go practice braiding." Then he whispered, "We'll make Berwald wear the next one you make."

Eric gave a small, shaky "Yes," and scampered outside.

Matthew looked at Francis. "What's this about?"

"Matthieu and I are going home." Francis stated.

"But! But you can't! You need to help-" Matthew started, but Francis kept talking.

"Tino, I would like for you to keep Eric."

"Like... keep keep?" Tino asked, groping for Berwald's hand. "Why me?"

"You're perfect for him." Francis stated. "And he seems to adore you two."

"But, I don't know if I can." Tino whispered and pressed himself against Berwald.

"And why is that?"

Tino looked up at Berwald, tears swimming in his brown eyes. Matthew sat silently on Francis's lap, completely unaware of what was going on visually.

Berwald took a deep breath. "'fter l'os'ng P't'r, we h'v'n't b'n 'ble t' g't 'n'th'r ch'ld. M' w'fe c'n't go thr'gh l's'ng 'nym're l'ved ones."

Matthew scrunched up his nose. Then asked, "Did you happen to lose Peter in London?"

Tino let out a choked sob and nodded his head. Francis looked down at his Canadian. "How did you know?"

"Arthur has ghosts in his library. I accidentally sat on Peter, I think. He even pinched me."

"Peter pinched people all the time." Tino whispered, then looked at Berwald. "We're going to London!"

"You believe in ghosts?" Matthew asked.

"My brother does. I guess he convinced me. But we have to find Mathias first."

"Your brother from Denmark?" Matthew asked, readjusting himself and the flowers.

Tino nodded. "We can't just abandon him. I have to help him."

Matthew smiled and dropped his eyes to his hands. "You're a better brother than I ever was."

Francis could feel Matthew's heart breaking and it made him want to kill something. But to be honest, Francis did have Matthew leave his brother.

But Tino shook his head and smiled. "You're alive. That's all that matters."

Matthew didn't look up, and his lips moved silently. Berwald suddenly stepped forward and set a hand on Matthew's head. The Canadian jumped and looked up. An awkward smile fell upon the Swede's face. "Y'r br'th'r w'll b' gl'd y'r s'fe. 'v'n th'gh y'r n't th' s'me phys'c'lly. H' w'll 'w'ys l've y'" Matthew didn't understand what Berwald said, but he did get that last sentence. And the double meaning. Francis and Alfred still love him, even though he is crippled and blind.

Tears stung Matthew's eyes and he hugged Berwald, who held still and didn't breath. Matthew heard Tino giggle before letting go. "Thank you, Berwald."

The doctor appeared momentarily and gave Matthew a handful of pills. "New shipment. You're the first. You'll start feeling pain on the amputated part, your eyes and anywhere else you were hit. You'll also experience ghost pains." Matthew felt his breath stop and Francis asked the question for him.

"What are ghost pains?"

"When your legs ache, but they are no longer there." The doctor offered a sincere smile. "If you do have those, I'm afraid nothing will help besides going to sleep. These pulls will do the trick." He handed Matthew a different handful of red pills. "You can get a prescription when you return home." He bowed his head and left.

Matthew looked at his handful of pills. This was his life now. Pills. Wheelchair. Staring. Not being able to dance with Francis. Not being able to walk the streets, or cook, or swim or play. Matthew had lost most of his life in less than twenty-four hours. And Francis was still with him.

Tino petted Matthew's hair. "Everything will be fine. I..." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened them. "I'll take Eric. We'll leave after we find Mathias."

Nodding, Matthew slipped the pills into the empty water cup on the small wooden desk. "I think he'll like that."

Berwald set a hand on Tino's waist and smiled proudly. A message went between the two. Tino rested his hand over Berwald's and blinked slowly.

Eric poked his head in. "Tino... I'm going to get some food." He said softly.

Tino smiled and looked at the boy. "Mama will be right there."

Dismissing the weird name, Eric nodded and walked away.

Looking back at the couple on the bed, Tino smiled. "Before we go back to my country, we'll stop by London." His eyes were smiling even though his wounded eye was still bandaged.

Matthew smiled. "I hope you all do well." He said.

The couple nodded then left Matthew to rest.

Settling back against Francis, Matthew played with the leaves strewn across his lap. Suddenly, a deep ache came from his legs and he bent over to grab his shins, but his hands only touched sheets.

"Matthieu, what is it?" Francis asked.

Not wanting to admit to Francis that he was already having ghost pains, Matthew shook his head and grabbed two of his pills, swallowing them dry.

Francis's eyes turned sad and he held the Canadian closer. "Just go to sleep for now. No one can hurt you."

Matthew nodded and curled up against the warm torso. He closed his eyes. "Maybe Alfred will be home when we get there." He said before the pills took over.

USUKUSUK

Ludwig looked up from his book. He had heard the stairs creak. He strained his ears, cursing his broken ankle that he couldn't stand and check.

He curled his fingers into fists and sat up. He was about to reach for his new gun Antonio got him when blonde hair appeared. "I brought you some lunch, Ludwig." Arthur says, balancing a tea set and burnt sandwiches on a tray. The German looked closer and saw that the sandwiches were deli with lettuce. Burnt cold sandwiches. What? Ludwig cleared his throat. "Thank you." He said, setting the book on the table.

Arthur smiles, it was a bit strained and it didn't reach his eyes completely, but it was a smile. "No problem." He said and set the tray beside Ludwig.

After watching Arthur clink the plates and cups together, Ludwig remembered something. "How come you don't talk to nothing when you serve anymore? You used to tell them to stop making you spill."

Arthur looked up from the teacup in his hands and knitted his brows together. He vaguely remembered talking to little things flitting around his precious china. But he couldn't remember clearly.

"Maybe. I'm not completely sure." Arthur said, then handed Ludwig the cup. "I almost recall something of the sort."

Ludwig looked at Arthur for a moment then looked at the tea. "And the chairs have stopped moving out from underneath me. You settled that thing with James?"

Arthur looked at Ludwig. Who in the bloody hell was James?

Ludwig raised his blonde brows. "You don't remember? You said he was a drunk who called you rude names all the time."

"I... I'm sorry. I just don't..."

"How come you don't remember?"

"I don't know. He sounds so familiar. And I want to remember. I just... can't." Arthur pressed his palm to his temple.

"Maybe you're just... depressed." Ludwig said, softly.

Arthur was silent. Then he sat down and cradled his head in his hands. "I smell roses again. And hear the sea." He shook his head. "James. A drunk. The sea. And roses. Rose. Rosie... Rosa..?" Arthur sighed. "I don't know."

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Alfred looked around his group. They were all tired and hungry, but they kept going. It took longer for a group of thirty people to tread up a mountain side than ten well fed men. Alfred smiled down at Violet, who was pouting at her feet but still clinging to Alfred's hand. She sensed Alfred's gaze and looked up at him. "Wanna play a game?"

Alfred grinned. "Yeah! I love games!"

The little girl's eyes brightened. "Okay! I'll say a color in German and you guess what it is in English!"

He was going to lose. "Alright. Go ahead."

"I'll start easy. Blau." She said, swinging her and Alfred's hands.

"Blue." Alfred smiled. Maybe he could win.

"Grun."

"Hmm...green." Haha! Take that!

Violet giggled. "Orange."

"That's English."

"No. It's German."

"You totally stole America's color and said it was yours!"

Violet laughed and shook her head. "Germany has been around longer than America!"

"How do you know?!" Alfred was laughing now.

"I listened in school!"

At that, Alfred remembered that while he was supposed to be in high school, he was getting high and having sex every other night. Alfred smiled and scooped Violet up. "When we get back to London, you'll go back to school. How does that sound?"

The girl smiled and nodded. Alfred set her down and she went to a group of children.

Gilbert stepped next to Alfred. "Germany is older than America."

"Oh, shut up. I didn't go to school."

Gilbert laughed. "Me neither! That's why I have a scar the shape of my grandfathers ring on my shoulder!"

"He hit you that hard?" Alfred asked.

"Well, that was the day he figured out I skipped the whole school year, lost my virginity and caught me looking down my best friend's shirt." He shrugged.

"Why were you looking down his shirt?"

Gilbert grinned. "I didn't believe him when he said he was a girl."

Alfred gaped at Gilbert. "Your best friend was a girl and you didn't know?"

"She had no boobs when we were in our tenth year!"

"You were fifteen when you first had sex?" Alfred was shocked that someone else could be like him, but Gilbert laughed and shook his head.

"Naw, I got held back. I was seventeen."

Alfred rolled his eyes and kept walking. "You had a messed up childhood."

"I'm sure you did to, Al."

They were both silent for a long stretch of time.

After about an hour, Gilbert suddenly stopped. "Al, your picture."

Alfred looked to where Gilbert was pointing. His precious picture of Arthur was flapping in the wind between two rocks. He raised his voice. "Keep moving!" He looked at Gilbert. "Watch my back." He stepped out of line with Gilbert close to him, clutching his borrowed handgun tightly.

Alfred knelt down and plucked the picture from between the rocks. He looked back up at Gilbert. "Thanks, man-" his voice broke. At the front of his line of runaways were the Nazis. In unison, five of them threw grenades at the crowd. Alfred yanked Gilbert down. He heard screams and cries. He also heard thuds of bodies against the ground and surrounding trees. Alfred pushed Gilbert further away from the noise, thankfully falling into a ravine. Gilbert looked up at Alfred. "What are you doing?!"

Alfred noticed that Gilbert was bleeding. Or had blood on him. He wasn't sure. "Everyone else-" he was cut off by a blast behind him. He turned quickly and felt smoke and rocks in his eyes. He stood strong. Heels digging into the dirt. "Violet!" He screamed. He heard a faint yell.

"A-Alfred! I'm stuck!" The American took off. Looking for the little girl. Tripping over bodies, slipping on bloody mud. He saw Violet pinned under a burning tree trunk. Her legs disappearing into the bark and her chest heaving.

Alfred ran to her and dropped to his knees. He rubbed at his eyes. He could still see. Violet looked from the tree, to the fire to Alfred. She was sobbing and had her hands against the bark. "Get me out." She begged.

"Hold on. I'll save you. It's okay." Alfred turned and looked at the tree. It was bigger than any of the trees he had ever seen. Easily heavier than what he was capable of lifting. His heart broke and he sat beside the little girl. "It's alright." He whispered, he lied. "I can't lift it by myself, but someone else will come to help me, alright?" Another lie. He knew everyone was gone and Gilbert was in the ravine.

Violet nodded and grabbed Alfred's hand. "I'm scared."

Alfred felt his eyes begin to water, but he choked them down. He had to keep her calm. There was no way to save her, the tree was too high on her legs to be able to amputate them. But if she stayed calm, Alfred could at least let her go gently. He offered a shaky smile. "I'm here. Nothing to be scared of." He set his arm across her stomach. He felt her heart beating frantically through her abdomen. "L-lets play a game."

She sobbed and nodded. "G-gelb." She whispered.

Alfred had no idea. "Uhm... pink."

Violet shook her head. "Yellow. L-Lila."

"Lila. Lilacs. Purple." He pushed dirty hair off her cherub face. "Violet."

She smiled. "That's violett."

Alfred nodded. "Violett." He bent down and pressed a kiss to her soft forehead.

Violet reached up and grabbed Alfred's jacket sleeve weakly. "I-ich liebe dich." She sobs.

Alfred raises his head and whispers, "Ich liebe dich."

Violet smiled then laid her head back against the burnt grass. Alfred could feel the heat of the fire on his neck. Her eyes slipped closed and her hand fell from Alfred's arm. Alfred saw water drip on her face, leaving clean tracks. Where was this water coming from? He sniffed then realized that he was crying.

He was crying. And was mad. These bastards had killed this poor little girl and all the other children and mothers and fathers. Alfred pulled his hair and closed his eyes tightly, clenching his jaw. Fucking bastards. He sobbed into his arms until he felt the fire right against him. The fire started to engulf the dead girl. There was nothing he could do.

He started to stand, but saw a gleam in the fire light. Violet was wearing a necklace. He reached down to the body and in clasped the thin chain, burning his fingers. He jumped back as Violet was engulfed by the flames.

After watching the poor girl burn for a minute, Alfred looked at the necklace. It was made of silver. The charm was a star. The Star of David. Alfred flipped the star over and saw that words were carved into the metal. They were in German so Alfred pocketed the necklace. He would have to show Gilbert.

Speaking of the other Jew, Alfred turned and walked back to the ravine, then he heard a noise. He turned and saw a Nazi standing and staring at Alfred. An awful grin on his face. Alfred was feet from the ravine. He should be able to-

The Nazi raised a gun and aimed it at Alfred. Without having time to defend himself, Alfred felt pain exploding in his shoulder. He fell back into the ravine. All he saw was violet blue skies and trees before he was swallowed by darkness.

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**Author's note: The whole Gilbert photo thing was written September 9th in health class. I couldn't let this idea get from me! So, what happened to Alfie and what find of horrible person am I for killing a little girl?! *sob* Anyway, thanks Hannah-fish and MUDCAT! They are so alone. I'm awful to my characters.**  
**Until next time!**

***Hannah fish says: -gross sobbing- whY WOULD YOU I DON't EvEN WAAAAABKJEBWKBRKEW **


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